Mythical Veracity
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Complete! Sequel to Caustic Heritage.
1. Default Chapter

Seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy pulled the van he co-owned with his year older brother Frank, to a stop in front of the Bayport library and got out. Going inside, he headed for one of the computers that had the library's catalog on file and sat down. He typed in the subject word he was looking for then clicked on the first one that popped up.  
  
Looking at the call number he ended his search then went to the corresponding shelf in the library. He found the book and plucked it from the shelf. The he grabbed five other books that had been keeping this one company and headed to the check out.  
  
"Hi, Joe," greeted sandy-haired Phil Cohen as Joe approached the check out.  
  
Joe looked up from the book he had been looking at as he walked and saw his eighteen-year-old friend standing in line. "Hi," Joe replied, his blue eyes lighting up as he smiled. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Picking up something to read," Phil answered. "I'm broke and the tube has nothing but re-runs," he added with a laugh. "The real question is what are you doing here?"  
  
Joe shrugged. "Just getting something to read," he replied, dropping the books to this side so Phil couldn't see them.  
  
Too late! "Werewolves?" Phil inquired with a grin. "In a horror mood, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," Joe agreed, his usually bright smile replaced by a worried plastic one. "You're up," he added, relieved it was Phil's turn at the checkout. Everyone knew Joe preferred comics and magazines to books and when he did read a book it was either required for a class or on the bestseller list. He wasn't in the mood for lying about his selection and there was no way he could tell the truth. Who would believe him?  
  
"I'll see you later," Phil said as he finished up. Joe nodded and set his books on the desk as Phil walked away.  
  
Joe gathered his books after being informed of their due date and hurried back out to the van. He glanced at his watch and groaned. Frank was supposed to be home in less than twenty minutes and he had wanted to get the books home and hidden before Frank saw them. If only his mom hadn't insisted he see Dr. Bates this afternoon he would have had plenty of time. But after being kidnapped by Dr. Aliem and found naked and trembling only days ago, his mother had insisted he have a full physical. So while Frank had gone to see his girlfriend, Joe had been taken to the family doctor.  
  
Joe pulled the van into the driveway of the house that sat situated at the corner of High and Elm streets and put the van in park. Killing the motor he snatched the books up and hurried inside. Five more minutes before Callie drops him off, Joe thought as he hurried inside and up the stairs. For once, he hoped they were late.  
  
He was reaching for the doorknob on his bedroom door when Frank stepped into the hall from his own room. "Hey," Frank greeted Joe, his brown eyes narrowing as he saw the furtive look Joe threw at his door. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Oh, uh, no," replied Joe. "Dr. Bates said I was in perfect health."  
  
"Yes. Mom told me when I got in," Frank said still looking at Joe curiously.  
  
"You got back early," Joe commented as he opened his bedroom door.  
  
"Yes," Frank agreed and took a step closer to Joe only to freeze as Joe's gaze went from the door to his eyes. Frank's heart beat a little faster as Joe's blue eyes bore into his. He swallowed, wondering why he felt fearful of his little brother. "What have you got there?" he asked, refusing to give in to his own over-active imagination.  
  
"Books," Joe answered shortly, going into his room with Frank following. "Did you and Callie have a fight?"  
  
The feeling of danger vanished as suddenly as it had arrived and Frank took a seat on Joe's bed. "No," he answered. "Callie could tell I was preoccupied and wasn't having any fun so she brought me home early."  
  
"Preoccupied?" Joe asked with a lift of his eyebrow. Frank nodded. "Worried about me?" Joe asked, his voice softening. Again, Frank nodded. "Thanks," Joe said, grateful he had such a caring brother.  
  
Frank's curiosity turned to concern. Usually, Joe told him there was no need to worry. "Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Joe said, busying himself with putting the books on his desk.  
  
"Con called," Frank said. "No one will admit to anything concerning Craig Deyman and he still hasn't shown up."  
  
"I found Craig's medallion," Joe said, still not looking at Frank. "It was in Mayhem's basement."  
  
"Where is it?" asked Frank, standing up and moving closer to Joe. He snuck a peek at some of the titles of the books Joe had gotten but was trying to hide from him. Werewolves again! Only Joe is getting the books instead of Deyman.   
  
"I had it when Aliem kidnapped me," Joe said. "I must have lost it in the cellar."  
  
Frank opened his mouth to ask why Joe hadn't said something before but realized it had probably slipped his mind in the trauma of what Aliem and Anderson had put him through. If only Anderson would confess or Joe could remember what had happened during his abduction then Joe might get back to normal instead of being so reserved.  
  
"Feel up to checking the cellar out?" asked Frank, his brown eyes watching for any sign that the trip might be too stressful.  
  
"Sure," Joe replied, the only giveaway that he had any misgivings was the tightening of his lips as he gave Frank a strained smile. "Maybe going back there will help me to remember what happened."  
  
Frank got behind the wheel of the van as Joe climbed into the passenger seat. After five minutes of silence Frank tried to draw Joe into conversation. "Think we should take the girls somewhere special tonight?"  
  
"Without prior notice?" snorted Joe. "They would kill us."  
  
"True," admitted Frank grinning. "How about Mr. Pizza though instead of Barney's Burgers?" he suggested. "Tony said they put in a new jukebox and cleared a space for dancing."  
  
"Okay," agreed Joe looking out the window.  
  
"Any preference on a movie?" asked Frank when several more minutes had passed in silence.  
  
"Not really," answered Joe.  
  
Frank bit his bottom lip. Joe had become withdrawn almost immediately after taking the case at Bayport University several days ago. Frank had hoped once the mystery was over Joe would return to his old self but instead he had become even more stoic. Aliem and Anderson had been arrested three days ago and Joe had refused to do much of anything since being released from the hospital except stay in his room or sit on the back porch at night and stare at the sky. Frank had the feeling that if he could have gotten in touch with Vanessa over the past couple of days he would have canceled their date.  
  
If only I knew what Anderson had done to Joe! Frank thought for the thousandth time. Frank glanced at Joe. Joe swore he didn't remember what had happened in the cellar but looking at Joe's sullen silhouette made him wonder if Joe was being completely honest. But why would Joe refuse to discuss the matter?  
  
When they arrived at the house where Joe had been kept prisoner they found it surrounded by a yellow police banner declaring it a crime scene. "How long are they going to leave this stuff up?" Joe asked as he and Frank ducked underneath it.  
  
"No more than a week, I'd say," guessed Frank. "After all, they have Aliem and Anderson in custody."  
  
"They just can't find Craig," whispered Joe as he moved toward the front of the house. Frowning, Frank followed.  
  
"If you like, I can search the cellar while you scout around up here," offered Frank once they were inside.  
  
"No," Joe refused the offer as he turned around and gave Frank a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really," he insisted on seeing Frank's skeptical look.  
  
Frank nodded his acquiescence. Maybe returning to the cellar would help to put Joe's current demons to rest. "Looks like a dog went crazy in here," Frank commented, seeing the dirt scattered all over the floor of the cellar.  
  
"Or something," agreed Joe, his blue eyes roaming the area. Had he dug the entire floor up during his captivity?  
  
"I doubt we'll find the medallion," said Frank interrupting Joe's thoughts. "I daresay the police got it in the dirt they dug up."  
  
"They dug this place up?" Joe asked in surprise, looking over at Frank.  
  
"Yeah, well, they at least took the top layer of soil," Frank replied taking in the look of relief that washed over Joe. "You were held prisoner down here and part of the floor had already been dug up," he explained. "Forensics would need the top few inches at least to sort through for evidence."  
  
The two looked around for a few minutes and finding nothing, departed. "You know, we should go pick up our things at Dr. Mayhem's," said Frank once they were back on the road. "Besides, if you found Craig's medallion in his basement then we need to find out what it was doing there."  
  
Joe knew returning to Mayhem's was a waste of time but if he told Frank that then he would have to explain about sneaking out and going over there his first night home from the hospital.  
  
Frank drove to Mayhem's and parked the van behind a police car. Frank and Joe got out and walked up to the front porch. "What's going on?" asked Frank of Con.  
  
Con gave the two boys a scowl. "The University reported Mayhem missing," he informed the brothers. "He hasn't shown up for any classes and hasn't called in. We thought he might have gotten sick or had an accident but it looks like he left on his own," he continued. "Most of his stuff is gone."  
  
Frank glanced at Joe who didn't seem in the least bit surprised to hear about Mayhem. "What did he leave behind?" asked Frank.  
  
"Some papers pertaining to his class, dishes, and furniture. Nothing really personal. Although," Con continued looking hard at Frank. "We did find a suitcase with some items in one of the rooms that could have been yours."  
  
"Probably is," admitted Frank. "We were staying with him while we worked on out last case."  
  
"Any idea why he would just take off?" asked Con.  
  
"Joe?" Frank asked, shooting his brother a look to let him know now would be the ideal time to tell the police about finding the medallion. Taking a deep breath, Joe explained how he had found the medallion in Mayhem's basement and taken it with him only to have lost it when he had been abducted by Aliem.  
  
"Well, if it was in the cellar it will turn up at the station," Con said. "As for the basement, it as almost empty. Whatever he had down there must have been pretty important to him. Any ideas?" he asked, looking at Joe questioningly.  
  
"Research for a new book?" suggested Joe with a shrug, unwilling to tell him about the files he had discovered.  
  
Con nodded but shot Frank a curious glance. Like Frank, Con could tell Joe knew more than he was telling but decided not to push.  
  
"I can't let you guys in," Con told them. "Forensics isn't finished."  
  
"That's okay," Joe said, relieved. "We can come back some other time," he added as he turned and headed back to the van.  
  
"Frank," Con began, his expression serious.  
  
"I'll talk to him," Frank promised knowing what Con wanted. "I'll be in touch," he added and returned to the van where Joe was already waiting in the passenger seat.  
  
Frank climbed behind the wheel but didn't start the motor. "Talk to me," he instructed Joe.  
  
"There's nothing to talk about," Joe insisted, turning away from Frank and looking out the window at Mayhem's house.  
  
"Don't give me that," snapped Frank. "You know something that you're not telling. I thought we were partners."  
  
"We are!" Joe exclaimed turning to look at him in surprise.  
  
"Then tell me what's going on," begged Frank. "You're holding something back."  
  
"I think Mayhem is responsible for Craig's disappearance," Joe revealed.  
  
"I admit, it doesn't make sense for Craig's medallion to have been in Mayhem's basement," said Frank. "Especially since Craig would have had no reason to be around Dr. Mayhem. But that doesn't make him guilty. Even if Mayhem did have something to do with Craig's disappearance, why were you keeping it from me?"  
  
"When I searched Mayhem's basement I found three files," Joe informed him. "One on a guy named Jonathan. One on Craig and one...." he broke off, not wanting to reveal everything.  
  
"And one on who?" Frank pushed. Joe had come this far, he wasn't going to let him quit now.  
  
"One on me," Joe finished softly.  
  
"On you?" demanded Frank, his eyes going wide in shock. "Why?"  
  
"Because..." Again, Joe quit speaking. He knew how it was going to sound.  
  
"Because?" Frank prodded.  
  
"I don't know," Joe tried to lie.  
  
"But you have an idea," Frank guessed. "Give."  
  
"Because Jonathan, Craig and I are all werewolves," Joe declared in a rush. 


	2. Chapter Two

Frank's eyes grew even wider and his mouth fell open to reveal his pearly whites. WEREWOLVES! A low gurgle erupted from Frank's mouth that quickly became louder. Soon, Frank was laughing so hard he had tears rolling down his cheeks.  
  
"Oh man!" Frank declared when he could talk again. "You really had me going." He wiped his eyes and looked into Joe's stony face. "Come on, you can't be serious!" he exclaimed.  
  
"I'm not laughing," replied Joe, hurt.   
  
"Joe, there is no such thing as a werewolf," Frank told him. "It's a myth made up because of a fear people had of individuals who suffer from a disease that caused them to grow excessive hair on their face and body."  
  
"That's what I used to think," Joe said. "But not any more. I am a werewolf."  
  
Frank could tell Joe really believed what he was saying. He thought back to the stack of books he had found in Craig's apartment. Had Craig believed he was a werewolf too? Had Mayhem somehow brainwashed Joe and Craig into believing they were werewolves? He had to convince Joe he wasn't a werewolf, but how?  
  
"Wait a minute," Frank said finally. "To be a werewolf wouldn't you have to be attacked by one?"  
  
"I was scratched by one," answered Joe. "That first night in Mayhem's lab."  
  
"I saw your hand," Frank said, shaking his head. "There wasn't a mark on you."  
  
"It healed," Joe insisted. "Almost as soon as it happened."  
  
"So, if you were to get cut you would heal fast?" queried Frank.  
  
Joe nodded. "Definitely," he said. "I did at the university."  
  
Frank reached over and clawed Joe's arm. "OW!" Joe yelped, pulling his arm back. "What did you do that for?" he demanded, turning to glare at his older brother.  
  
"Has it healed?" Frank asked, ignoring Joe's outrage.  
  
Joe looked at his arm. "No," he replied, perplexed. He kept looking at his arm as if his gaze would make the marks vanish.  
  
"See, you have been worried about nothing," insisted Frank in a gentle tone. "That wound would have been long gone by now if you were a werewolf."  
  
"But in the cellar..." Joe started to argue but bit his tongue and silenced himself.  
  
"You do remember what happened?" Frank demanded sharply.  
  
"A bit," Joe answered hesitantly. "I...I remember being in a lot of pain but that's pretty much it."  
  
"Anderson hurt you," Frank said, his voice revealing his anger. "But he can't hurt you again."  
  
"I don't remember him being there," Joe said thoughtfully. "And my clothes. They were in shreds."  
  
"Joe, I don't know what happened in the cellar but I do know one thing with absolute certainty: You are not a werewolf," Frank told him a clear, precise tone.  
  
Joe still didn't look convinced although his gaze did return to the scratch Frank had made on his arm. "But I do think you're right about one thing," Frank continued. "Mayhem is involved in Craig's disappearance."  
  
"So what do you want to do?" asked Joe, his attention once again on his brother.  
  
"Go see Ravelson," suggested Frank. "Get him to let us check Mayhem's lab."  
  
"Okay," agreed Joe. "Maybe if we can find Mayhem we can find out why he had files on Jonathan, Craig and me."  
  
Frank started the van and the two were on their way. As Joe watched the scenery trying unobtrusively to look at his scratch every few seconds Frank wondered what Mayhem had done to Joe's mind and more importantly, why. Was he conducting some unethical experiment to see if a human would take on the characteristics of a werewolf? After all, the man did study wolves. YES! He must have hypnotized or brainwashed Joe into believing he was a werewolf! Frank gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned a ghastly shade of white. He would find Mayhem and force him to undo the damage he had done to his brother if it was the last thing he ever did!  
  
Frank found a visitor's parking space and came to a stop . Exiting the van, the two made their way to the Dean's Office. "Hello," Dean Ravelson greeted the two youths as they were granted permission into the Dean's inner sanctum. "Joe, I am so glad to see you are all right. I am sorry your investigation proved so traumatic."  
  
"Not your fault," Joe returned, giving the dean a reassuring smile. "Actually, we are here to ask you for a favor."  
  
"Of course," the Dean agreed at once then waited expectantly for him to put in his request.  
  
"We want to see Mayhem's lab," Frank said.  
  
"Not a problem," Ravelson stated with a smile. He retrieved a key from his desk and handed it to Frank. "Of course, one of the keys you already possess will let you in the building after hours. I am assuming you intend to keep looking for Dr. Mayhem until you have found him?" he added with the quirk of an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, Sir," Frank admitted pulling out the keys and removing one of them before slipping on the key to Mayhem's lab. He handed the Dean the key to Aliem's old lab. "Thank you, Sir," he said. "We will keep in touch and let you know if we find him."  
  
The two boys left the administration building and headed to the science building. "Hold up," ordered Joe as his stomach began rumbling. "Can we get something to eat first?"  
  
Frank grinned. Joe may be going through a difficult time but he knew as long as Joe's appetite was working, and as of late it was working overtime, then Joe would be fine.  
  
The two made a detour to the cafeteria where Frank picked up a ham and Swiss sub. Joe got two double burgers with fries and they took a seat at a table near the exit. "If you keep eating like that you're going to have a heart attack before you're twenty," Frank warned him with a frown.  
  
Joe shrugged. "Doc gave me a complete bill of health," he reminded Frank. "Including my cholesterol level," he added before sinking his teeth into the first burger.  
  
The two finished at the same time and emptied their trays before leaving. "Hey, check it out," Frank said, pausing in front of the bulletin board in front of the library. "Dr. Alfred Corbin is going to be on campus in a couple of weeks to talk about his book."  
  
"What book?" asked Joe.  
  
"Footprints," Frank answered. "He's a specialist in self-defense," he continued. "I've got to bring Callie. She's the one who gave me his book to read."  
  
"Sounds dull," Joe replied, turning away as Frank checked the date and time.  
  
"Wait up!" Frank called out, turning around and seeing Joe had gone on without him. Joe stopped and looked back. He hadn't realized Frank hadn't accompanied him from across the street. He waited a bit impatiently as Frank stopped and looked both ways before starting across the street. Joe heard a motor start up and looked up the road. A fiery red Dodge truck had just pulled onto the highway. Joe recognized the vehicle and knew he should relax but the truck increased speed and Joe knew it would reach the middle of the road just as Frank did. Without batting an eye, Joe began running across the six-lane street in a desperate attempt to reach Frank before the truck did.  
  
Frank heard the truck approaching and looked up to see it barreling straight for him. His eyes widened as he felt a heavy impact and crashed to the pavement. The truck continued down the street while Frank lay on the hard pavement, unmoving. 


	3. Chapter Three

Joe rolled off of his brother and got to his knees as a university police cruiser came to a stop near them. Frank moaned and blinked a few times before leaving his eyes open. "I feel like I got run over by a truck," he groaned.  
  
"If he hadn't knocked you down, you would have been," stated a young woman who had witnessed the incident. "He saved your life."  
  
"Thanks, Baby Brother," Frank said, starting to rise.  
  
"Better stay put," one of the officers advised. "An ambulance will be here shortly."  
  
"I'm fine," Frank said. "I just wish I knew who owned that truck," he added, getting to his feet.  
  
"Elie Whitlock," Joe and the officer replied at the same time.  
  
"It was stolen earlier this morning," the officer continued.  
  
"Shouldn't you go after it?" demanded Joe, turning on the officer.  
  
"My partner radioed it in," the officer informed Joe, swallowing nervously as he mentally prepared to defend himself although he wasn't sure why since Joe had made no move to act on his anger. "The Bayport PD will look for it. We don't have authority to pull a vehicle over once it has left campus."  
  
"I should file a report with the Bayport PD instead of with you then?" inquired Frank.  
  
"That would be best," the officer answered.  
  
"I'll do that," Frank said smiling. "Come on Joe," he added, taking his brother's arm and pulling him across the street.  
  
The boys arrived at the science building a few minutes later and made their way upstairs and stopped in front of Dr. Mayhem's lab. "He's not here," one male student informed the brothers.  
  
"We know," Joe acknowledged the youth with a charming smile. "But Dean Ravelson gave us permission to go inside."  
  
The student looked at the two suspiciously until Frank pulled a set of keys from his pocket and inserted one of them into the lock. With a shrug, the boy continued on his way down the hall as Frank and Joe entered the lab and closed the door behind them.  
  
"The wolves are gone," said Joe, seeing the section of the room where their cages had been and going over to inspect the area.  
  
Frank bit his bottom lip as he watched Joe. Perhaps searching for Mayhem wasn't the best thing for his brother to do. He had been obsessed with the man since their first meeting and Frank wasn't altogether sure Joe meeting up with Mayhem while he obviously still thought he might be a werewolf was a good idea. Then again, my meeting Mayhem right now isn't such a good idea either, thought Frank grimly. What had Mayhem done to Joe to get him to act this way? Frank's scowl turned into a heavy frown. Mayhem and Anderson were working together! his mind screamed at him.  
  
"I think I should question Anderson," Frank said.  
  
Joe looked over at Frank in surprise. "Why?" he asked, standing up.  
  
"Mayhem did something to you to make you think you were a werewolf," Frank explained. "And what Anderson did to you obviously reinforced that belief which means they are working together."  
  
"On what?" Joe asked, desperately wanting some kind of logical explanation.  
  
"I don't know," Frank admitted. "But after we finish up here I will drop you off at home and head down to the police station."  
  
"No," Joe said, shaking his head. He didn't want to see Anderson and was grateful Frank didn't want him along but he had other plans. "I want to find Elie and talk to her," Joe explained before Frank could argue. "Maybe I can come up with a lead about who stole her truck and tried to run you down."  
  
"Good idea," approved Frank with a smile. He was glad he wasn't going to have to talk Joe out of going to the station with him.  
  
The two boys set about sifting through the items in the lab. Finding nothing, they headed into Mayhem's office. "Not much left," commented Frank as he rifled through homework assignments.  
  
Joe never acknowledged Frank's observation. He had found a dissertation that a grad student had left for Mayhem to peruse and was giving it his full attention.  
  
"What's that?" queried Frank, his forehead wrinkling as his face took on a curious expression. He moved to Joe's side as Joe shut the notebook.  
  
"Just something someone left for Mayhem," said Joe holding the cover up where the written request had been taped. "Find anything?" he asked doing his best to look innocent.  
  
Frowning, Frank took the notebook and opened it. The Werewolf: Myth or Legend? "Joe, I thought we covered this," groaned Frank.  
  
"Sorry," replied Joe with a sick grin. He wanted to believe Frank. He wanted to believe he had been brainwashed but deep down he knew the truth. Would Frank have to see his transformation to believe him?   
  
"Joe!" snapped Frank drawing Joe's full attention to him as he snatched his arm. "Look! It's still red. A fresh scratch. Werewolves heal."  
  
"They do?" asked Joe grinning impishly.  
  
"If they existed," Frank clarified, pleased to see a trace of the old Joe. "All the myths say werewolves can't be hurt except by a silver bullet."  
  
"No," disagreed Joe, shaking his head. "They say a werewolf can't be killed except by a silver bullet. But what if the myths are wrong?" he continued. "No one believes in werewolves so of course no one has done any research. But if they do exist, what if they can be hurt in human form?"  
  
"Blast it, Joe! You're not a werewolf!" Frank snapped. "Stop being a moron. You can't be a werewolf because there..is...no..such...thing," he ended with blazing eyes. He had to make Joe see how ridiculous he was being.  
  
Joe headed for the door. "I'm going to find Elie," he said. "I'll find my own way home," he added, not turning around. Joe left the science building wondering why he had been so short with Frank. Frank had just been trying to help him. "Of course I'm not a werewolf," Joe muttered but his words did not convince him. He resisted the urge to look at the scratch Frank had given him and continued on his way across campus. Fifteen minutes later, he reached his destination and headed up the steps into the building housing the English department. Joe had looked at Elie's file along with the other students involved with Aliem's project and had memorized her schedule. She should be finishing her class in less than ten minutes.  
  
When Elie's class let out, Joe was waiting across the hall leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he watched a spider spinning a web above an upper corner of a picture frame.  
  
Elie saw him before he spotted her even though her perfume had reached his nostrils as she exited. "Joe! What are you doing here?" inquired Elie with a smile.   
  
"I was looking for you actually," he answered pushing away from the wall as she approached. "Got time to talk?"  
  
"And how!" she agreed. "I've even got a mystery for you," she added.  
  
"Let me guess," Joe said. "Someone stole your truck."  
  
"How did you know?" she demanded in surprise. "It just happened this morning."  
  
"Because whoever stole it used it to try and run Frank down earlier," Joe informed her.  
  
"Oh no! Is he all right?" Elie gasped, her eyes going wide.  
  
"He's fine," Joe assured her. "I was wondering if you could tell me where your truck was parked when it was stolen?"  
  
"Here on campus," Elie replied. "It was parked at the campus post office. I was going to get my mail and go straight back to the truck but I bumped into Dr. Mayhem and he convinced me to have breakfast with him at the Sweet Shop so we walked over. Then I went to the library and dropped off a couple of books that Dr. Mayhem asked me to before I headed back to the post office. It wasn't seven am so I didn't think it would be towed or anything," she explained. "But I checked before reporting it stolen and well, it hadn't been. Towed, that is."  
  
When she quit speaking she noticed Joe was looking a bit excited. "Did you leave your keys in the truck?" he asked.  
  
"Of course not," Elie snapped. "I'm not a moron."  
  
"Do you still have your keys?" Joe asked.  
  
"Of course," she replied. She unzipped the small outside pocket of her backpack and reached inside. Her forehead split into wrinkles as she rummaged around. "They aren't here!" she declared in shock, looking back at Joe. "But I know I put them in there."  
  
"Mayhem took them," Joe stated with certainty.  
  
"That's the craziest thing I have ever heard of," Elie erupted. "I may not have him for a class but I have heard of him. He's a genius! He's...."  
  
"He's been missing for three days," Joe said, silencing her. 


	4. Chapter Four

Missing?" Elie asked. "But he was here this morning."  
  
"The university reported him missing," Joe informed her. "He packed up and cleared out. He even took the wolves he had been keeping in his lab."  
  
"But why would Dr. Mayhem steal my truck?" demanded Elie, perplexed. "I never even met the guy before today."  
  
"And you didn't think it odd he would invite you to breakfast and then ask you, someone he had just met, to return some books to the library for him?" Joe demanded in disbelief.  
  
"But if what you are implying is true, that he was planning to steal my truck all along, then he would have to of known me," she pointed out.  
  
"Maybe not," said Joe with a frown. "Look I think he had something to do with Craig's disappearance and..and.." he stressed the repeated word to keep her from interrupting him, "he probably took your truck because he thought we would go after you once he came after us."  
  
"He knows you're detectives too?" Elie asked.  
  
Joe nodded. "Frank told him after Aliem kidnapped me."  
  
"Where is Frank now?" she asked.  
  
"He went to the police station. He thinks Anderson was working with Mayhem in addition to Aliem," he answered.  
  
"And you don't?" she queried, picking up on Joe's tone.  
  
"Not really," Joe replied with a sigh. "But we have to follow every channel of the investigation."  
  
***  
  
After Joe left, Frank looked through the dissertation that had snagged Joe's interest. Feeling guilty, he took it with him when he left. Locking the lab behind him he went downstairs to the central office where a copier machine graced the far wall. Telling the student on duty he had been asked to make a copy he preceded to do just that before returning to Mayhem's lab where he returned the original and finished going through what Mayhem had left.   
  
Finding nothing useful, he left and went to the police station and straight to the desk of Sergeant Con Riley. "What's up?" Con asked as Frank came to a standstill.  
  
"I want to talk to Anderson," Frank stated his request that came out more like an order.  
  
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," hedged Con. While he knew Frank was even-tempered and levelheaded, he also knew that where Joe was concerned Frank's rational side could vanish completely.  
  
"I promise not to lay a finger on him," said Frank reading Con's thoughts. "I just want to find out if he and Mayhem had anything to do with each other."  
  
"All right," Con finally relented. "But I have to warn you, he hasn't been in the least bit cooperative."  
  
Twenty-five minutes later Frank had to admit Con was right. No matter what tactic Frank tried, Anderson refused to talk. The only thing Frank could get out of him was, 'I want my lawyer.'  
  
Disgruntled and depressed, Frank left the interrogation room. "Frank! Wait up!" Con called out as Frank was on his way out of the building.   
  
Frank stopped and turned around, his resigned look changing to one of curiosity as he took in the sparkle in Con's eyes. "What's up?" Frank asked as Con reached him.  
  
"I decided to check with Aliem and see if he knew anything about Mayhem," Con explained.  
  
"Does he?" inquired Frank.  
  
"Yes and no," answered Con. "I don't know if it has any bearing on what Anderson did to Joe but from what I can gather, Mayhem certainly made an impression on Deyman."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
Con shook his head. "Come on back," he instructed Frank. "I'll let you talk to Aliem."  
  
Frank followed Con to an interrogation room just down the hall from the one he had been questioning Anderson in. "All right," Con began once he and Frank were inside and the officer who had been watching him left. "Start at the beginning."  
  
Aliem looked nervously at Frank. "I didn't hurt your brother," he said. "I don't know what Anderson did to him."  
  
"I know," replied Frank. "I heard you and Anderson talking. That's not why I'm here," he continued. "I want to know everything you know about Boris Mayhem."  
  
"That isn't much," Aliem began. "I'm sure you know as much about him as I do but Craig seemed to know more than anyone. At least, I think he did."  
  
"Why is that?" inquired Frank.  
  
"Because Craig was afraid of Mayhem," Aliem asserted. "Whenever I had to talk to Mayhem and Craig entered the room his face would turn white and he would leave immediately. Once when Craig, Angela and I were working, Dr. Mayhem came into the lab. Craig started trembling and became extremely nervous. He excused himself and didn't return until after Mayhem had departed."  
  
"Do you have any idea why Craig reacted so negatively to Mayhem's presence?" asked Frank.  
  
"None," Aliem answered. "But for awhile Craig was actually afraid to be in the building at night."  
  
"Maybe Aliem's wolves spooked him," suggested Frank.  
  
"But if he were afraid of the wolves then why did he start reading everything he could find out about them?" countered Aliem.  
  
"How do you know?" Con asked sharply.  
  
"Because I saw Craig around campus," Aliem explained. "He got to where he was always reading about wolves. Either non-fiction or fictional."  
  
"Fictional?" Con asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.  
  
"Werewolves," Aliem answered. The reply did not generate a response from Frank although Con looked like he was about to laugh. "You don't seem surprised," Aliem commented looking at Frank and ignoring the officer.  
  
"No," Frank admitted. "That kind of fits in with what I've heard," he added then turned to Con without explaining. "Have you been to Deyman's apartment?"  
  
Con nodded and opened the door. An officer entered to take Aliem back to his cell. "We found a stack of books from the University Library all concerning werewolves."  
  
"I think Mayhem may have brainwashed Craig into believing he was a werewolf," Frank said after Aliem and the other officer had departed.  
  
Con erupted into laughter. "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of," he replied.  
  
"Agreed," Frank replied. "But it would explain his newfound fascination and his fear of Mayhem."  
  
"No," Con disagreed. "Oh, it might explain his fascination but he wouldn't have been afraid of Mayhem unless he thought Mayhem was the wolf."  
  
"Unless Mayhem convinced Craig there was a werewolf in the building at night and then arranged it so Craig would think he had been attacked," Frank pushed his theory.  
  
"But he would have to have been quick about it," Con argued. "You only get one full moon unless you count the waxing and waning."  
  
"You're right," Frank agreed, smiling. Of course! Why didn't I think of that? he wondered, planning on using that important information to combat Joe's belief that he was a lycanthrope.  
  
When Frank arrived home he found Joe upstairs. "What are you reading?" he asked, going in and snagging the book when Joe hastily closed the cover and tried to hide it. "Joe," Frank moaned, sitting down on the bed with the werewolf book in his hand. "You're not a werewolf."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Joe said, looking miserable. "The scratch. But look, it's healing," he said holding up his arm.  
  
"Of course it is," Frank insisted. "It happened hours ago and it wasn't bad. Look, if you were a werewolf, you would change when the moon is full, right?" he asked but didn't wait for Joe's reply. "And you say you only transformed once but the moon is actually full for..."  
  
"Frank," Joe interrupted him. "Some of the things I have read say a werewolf transforms on each full moon. Some say even on the waxing and waning. Still others say every single night regardless. But what if they're wrong? What if it only happens on a new moon?" he demanded, his blue eyes fearful. "That was four nights ago. That was when I changed." 


	5. Chapter Five

"Then how did you get attacked, er, scratched in the first place?" demanded Frank, his eyes locking with Joe's. "If it's only once, maybe twice, a month, then how did Craig or this Jonathan become a wolf and get you at the university when we were there? It wasn't a full moon."  
  
Joe's eyes fell. "I...I don't know," he admitted.  
  
"Well, I do," Frank said in a gentle voice. "Mayhem and Anderson have managed to play with your mind somehow. You're not a wolf. You're just as human as I am."  
  
"Really?" asked Joe, his expression pleading.  
  
"Really," asserted Frank.  
  
Joe smiled. "I'm being silly, huh?"  
  
"No," denied Frank with a firm shake of his head. "They did something to you to make you believe it and we're going to find out what it was and make sure they don't do it to anyone else."  
  
"Thanks, Bro," said Joe as Frank gave him a quick hug.  
  
"Come on," said Frank, pulling away and rapping Joe lightly on the leg. "We've got to pick up the girls soon so we had better get ready."  
  
Almost an hour and a half later the boys arrived at Mr. Pizza with their dates. "Hey, Gorgeous!" shouted Chet as they neared the table occupied by some of their friends. "You can sit right here," he said, smiling at Vanessa as his girlfriend, Helen, gave him a punch in the side.  
  
"Don't mind if I do," said Joe taking the seat and pulling Vanessa onto the one beside him and immediately placing his arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Alas, my days as a Casanova seem numbered," lamented Chet, his brown eyes taking on an imploring look as he looked at Callie. "What say ye, fair maiden? Wilt thou grace my knee?"  
  
Frank broke out laughing as he and Callie took their seats. "What's with the theatrics?" Frank asked.  
  
"Chet's trying out for the part of Cryano in the Bayport Little Theater production," Helen explained. "But he hasn't even looked at the script yet," she added, her green eyes twinkling at her boyfriend's jovial nature.  
  
"When are the tryouts?" asked Joe, his eyes not quite as blue as they had been when he had first sat down.  
  
"A week from tomorrow," answered Chet. "Thinking about trying out too?"  
  
Joe shook his head. "No way," he declared. "Not my cup of tea."  
  
"It sounds like fun," Vanessa commented, her gray eyes alight with interest. "I think I will try out for a part."  
  
"Don't do that," Joe ordered, turning and frowning at her.  
  
"Why not?" asked eighteen-year-old Tony Prito, his dark eyes looking at Joe curiously. "I think it would be cool if we all got parts."  
  
"Go for it," Joe told him. "I just don't think Vanessa should."  
  
"Why not?" demanded Vanessa, her eyes stormy as she flipped her long ash-blond hair over her shoulder and glared at him. "Don't you think I would make a good actress?"  
  
"I know you would be a great actress," Joe responded. "You're great at everything you do. But if you had to rehearse every night we wouldn't have any time together," he explained.  
  
"Of all the selfish..." began Callie, her brown eyes flashing only to break off in surprise when Vanessa snuggled up to Joe.  
  
"That's so sweet," Vanessa purred, kissing Joe lightly on the lips. "And you're right. It isn't worth it. I would much rather spend my evenings with you."  
  
Callie smothered the shock she felt by bowing her blond head and looking at her hands. She couldn't believe Vanessa had bought that line of garbage. But then, maybe Vanessa was just being nice because of the trauma Joe went through when he had been kidnapped only days before. Taking a deep breath she looked up at her boyfriend. "Have you found out anything about Craig yet?" she asked.  
  
"He's still missing," answered Frank. "There is a strong possibility Dr. Mayhem is behind his disappearance," he continued. "Anderson may have been involved too."  
  
"Then whatever happened to Craig could have happened to Joe?" demanded blond and beefy Biff Hooper, Joe's best friend since fifth grade. "It's a good thing you and your dad found Joe before he disappeared," he added.  
  
"Agreed," acknowledged Phil, frowning slightly as he watched Joe from the corner of his eye. Joe had tensed up when Frank spoke of Mayhem. Vanessa had noticed it as well.  
  
"Want to dance?" Vanessa asked Joe, wanting to take his mind off the subject.  
  
"Sure," Joe agreed, standing up and pulling Vanessa to her feet.  
  
"Just one," Tony said, getting to his feet. "Your pizza should be about ready."  
  
"Ah, the joys of having a friend in charge," Joe said grinning. "We just have to show up and we get what we want."  
  
"But you still have to pay," retorted Tony as Joe and Vanessa moved away.  
  
"Frank, is Joe all right?" inquired Phil after Tony had gone into the kitchen to check on their dinner.  
  
Frank frowned. "I don't know," he replied honestly after a brief hesitation. "He's preoccupied most of the time and..."  
  
"And possessive," Callie inserted, watching Joe skillfully keep Vanessa away from everyone on the dance floor. She turned back to Frank. "I swear, when you picked me up and kissed me he was almost consumed with anger."  
  
"What makes you say that?" asked Karen, Biff's ebony haired girlfriend.  
  
"After Frank let me go, I could see Joe watching us from the van. His lips were tight and his eyes were so dark they were almost black," explained Callie.  
  
"No way," Frank said, not altogether believing his own objection because he had seen Joe's reaction to Chet's teasing with Vanessa. He looked at the dance floor where Joe was holding Vanessa.  
  
"Mmm, this feels good," Vanessa said as a slow song began playing and she moved closer to Joe.  
  
Joe stiffened and bit his bottom lip. "Excuse me," he said as Vanessa pulled away with a hurt expression on her face. Joe hurried into the men's room as Vanessa returned to the table alone.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Frank as Vanessa sat down.  
  
Vanessa shook her head. "I have no idea," she replied. "One minute he's fine and the next..." she broke off with a shrug.  
  
After Joe left Vanessa he hurried to the men's room and locked the door. He pulled his shirt down a fraction of an inch and looked in the mirror. The skin where his shirt had been open was marred by a burn mark in the shape of a cross just like the silver one Vanessa wore around her neck. 


	6. Chapter 6

How had this happened? You're a werewolf! his mind screamed at him. With trembling fingers Joe buttoned his shirt all the way up. The pain the initial contact had caused was gone but obviously the burn would take longer to heal if, it ever would. Joe looked at his arm to see the scratch Frank had made but could only find the barest trace of it.   
  
He splashed some water on his face and looked in the mirror. He saw a frightened little boy staring back at him with big blue eyes. Certainly this wasn't the face of a monster? He splashed on more water then dried off and returned to the hubbub in the dining area.  
  
"You okay?" asked Chet as Joe approached the table.  
  
"Not really," replied Joe with a strained smile. "I think I will head home. Vanessa, would you mind terribly if Frank took you home?"  
  
"No, of course not," she answered, her hurt turning into concern. He did look pale.  
  
"Then how are you going to get home?" asked Frank.  
  
"I'll walk," Joe answered.  
  
"No," Biff argued. "I'll drive you home and then come back."  
  
"No, really," Joe declined. "I just need some fresh air," he added, backing away. "See you later."  
  
Joe left the Pizzeria and headed down the street. The sun had set while he had been inside and the night sky was overcast making everything seem gloomier than normal. He reached the end of the street and looked around. The other businesses in the area were all closed and he could see no one loitering about. His sharp eyes peered through the darkness toward the alley as he approached but he saw no movement among the shadows.  
  
He passed the alley, spinning around without warning as the distinctive sound of footsteps reached his ears. Still, he could see no one. A car drove past, its headlights altering the shadows it passed but, again, Joe detected no movement.  
  
Oh boy am I jumpy, thought Joe turning back around and continuing home. Twice more he stopped to see if he was being followed; even doubling back and circling a block once, but afterwards he gave up, convinced his imagination was working overtime.  
  
"My imagination," Joe said reaching up to touch the scar Vanessa's necklace had made as he walked through the yard to his front door. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door and went inside. The living room light was on but no one was there. "Mom! Dad!" he called out then waited for a reply. But none was forthcoming. He walked into the kitchen and checked the message board by the phone.  
  
He gave a sigh of relief when he saw a note in his mother's handwriting saying she and Fenton had decided to have dinner out and see a movie. Feeling somewhat better, Joe went to the fridge and pulled it open. Grinning, he reached in and pulled out the leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes from the night before. He popped the meatloaf in the microwave and set it for five minutes then took a glass out of the cabinet.  
  
Next, he returned to the fridge and removed the milk. He poured some into the glass then poured a little on top of the cold potatoes. Returning the milk to its rightful place, Joe grabbed a spoon and softened the potatoes with the milk. When the microwave dinged, he removed the meatloaf and put the potatoes in for three minutes. Five minutes later, he exited the kitchen with his plate piled high, and his milk, and set them down on the coffee table as he sat down on the sofa.  
  
He grabbed the TV remote and turned it on, flipping the channels until he saw one with a movie about a giant reptile in New York staring one of his favorite actors. Smiling, Joe tossed the remote on the cushion beside him and reached for his fork, stopping as a wet cloth covered his face and he was forced back against the sofa.  
  
Joe grasped the hand holding the cloth and pulled as another hand inched around his throat. Joe raised his other hand and swung wildly at the person behind him; hitting his attacker on the side of his neck.  
  
His attacker emitted a strangled sound and dropped the chloroform soaked rag. Joe leapt to his feet in attack mode but the chloroform had already started working on Joe's senses and he staggered back a step. His opponent took advantage of Joe's weakened state and hurried around to stand in front of Joe.  
  
Before Joe's world ceased to spin, he glimpsed Dr. Mayhem with his fist pulled back. SMACK! Joe heard it rather than felt it but back he went onto the sofa. His eyes closing even as the contaminated cloth made its way to his face once more. 


	7. Chapter 7

"You're not having any fun either," Vanessa said, looking at Frank sympathetically. As much as she cared about Joe she knew Frank cared for him even more. She had learned that the bond the brothers shared was stronger than any she had ever seen and knew that whatever she felt, as madly in love with Joe as she was, Frank felt at least ten times worse.  
  
Frank shook his head. "I didn't think so," Callie said with a long-suffering sigh. "Take us home," she said, standing up.  
  
"But..." Frank began a feeble attempt to object but Callie didn't let him finish.  
  
"It's okay," Callie quickly assured him with no ill feeling. "Vanessa and I have been fed and you and Joe can make it up to us later. And, uh...it better be worth the wait."  
  
Frank jumped up and kissed her, ignoring the catcalls from his friends. "You're the best," he said after his lips left hers.  
  
"I know," Callie agreed then looked over at Vanessa. "Want to stay with me awhile?" she asked. "We can watch a video and I can run you home later?" she offered.  
  
"Sounds good to me," Vanessa agreed. When she had first started dating Joe she hadn't much cared for Callie, finding her a bit standoffish, but after getting to know her she realized it was more of a defense mechanism. Callie was a warm-hearted girl who cared deeply for all her friends but she was reluctant to show it.  
  
The three teens made their goodbyes and left with Frank stopping at the counter to pay their bill. Twenty-five minutes later Frank pulled into the driveway surprised when a pair of headlights followed him and came to a stop directly behind him.  
  
"You're home early," Laura commented as she and Fenton exited her Saturn.  
  
"Yeah," agreed Frank. "Where have you two been?" he asked, his face marred by the beginning of a scowl.   
  
Fenton's forehead creased as his lips titled down. Why was Frank mad? "We went out to dinner," he answered.  
  
"We were going to see a movie too but there wasn't anything interesting playing," added Laura also looking at Frank curiously. "Where's Joe?"  
  
"He left early," answered Frank. "He insisted on walking home."  
  
"And you followed him?" asked Fenton in surprise. He, too, had been worried about Joe since his abduction by Aliem but to follow him home four blocks from the pizzeria seemed a bit much.  
  
"No," denied Frank. "Callie, Vanessa and I stayed for dinner but....well, I was worried," he confessed.  
  
"Then let's go in and see how he's doing," Laura suggested, leading the way to the front door.  
  
"Sounds like he found a monster movie," Laura commented as they entered the foyer.  
  
"Yes," agreed Frank, relaxing a bit as he headed into the living room where the TV was turned up a bit too loud. "Joe, would you please turn it down a little?" he asked entering the living room but stopping abruptly when he saw the plate of food and full glass of milk but no Joe.  
  
"Joe?" shouted Frank. No answer. He walked over to the coffee table and put the tip of his finger in the glass of milk.  
  
"It's warm," he informed his parents who had entered the living room. He spotted something caught in the back of the sofa and picked it up. It was a cream colored cloth and as he held it closer he was assaulted by a sickly sweet odor. He dropped the cloth and looked at his parents in alarm. "Chloroform," he stated.  
  
Fenton pulled out his cell phone. "Don't touch anything," he ordered as he dialed police headquarters.  
  
Frank left the room and ran upstairs to see if anything had been bothered although he feared whoever had been in the house had been after Joe and not anything pertaining to a case his dad had been working on.  
  
"Well?" Laura demanded several minutes later when Frank returned downstairs.  
  
Frank shook his head. "I don't think whoever took Joe even went up there," he replied.  
  
"I found out how the person got inside," Fenton informed Frank and Laura. "The window in the guestroom was broken."  
  
"But who was it?" Laura wanted to know. She didn't care how they had gotten in the house of if anything had been bothered. She wouldn't have cared if everything they owned had been stolen. All she was interested in was who had taken her son and when was she going to get him back.  
  
Fenton scowled as he turned to look at Frank. He had no idea. "Mayhem, maybe," suggested Frank.  
  
"Mayhem?" demanded Fenton narrowing his eyes on Frank as flashing blue lights permeated the sheer curtains between the drapes at the main window.  
  
Frank gave a hesitant nod then told his father about Mayhem's disappearance and trying to run him down earlier in Elie's stolen truck. "But why?" Fenton asked, his forehead crinkled in thought. He remembered Joe's insistence that Mayhem was involved in their previous case and Frank's assurances that Mayhem wasn't and neither Anderson nor Aliem had made any mention of Boris Mayhem when questioned. Had Joe sensed Mayhem's unstable nature or had he perhaps done something to cause it to rise to the fore? Either way, Mayhem was obviously up to something. He only wished he could be positive it was Mayhem who had taken Joe. At least they would have a place to start.  
  
Frank must have been thinking along the same lines. As his father went to the door to let the police inside, he headed out. "I'm going to check with the neighbors and see if anyone saw anything."  
  
"Good idea," approved Sergeant Andrew Bryson, a man in his late twenties with curly black hair and a black mustache. His green eyes looked briefly at Frank before focusing on the one of the officers who had come with him. "Paisley, you start checking across the street and Frank can take this side."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Paisley agreed and followed Frank down the front steps as Sergeant Bryson and another officer entered the Hardy home.  
  
Frank had no luck with their closest neighbors who had been playing bridge with some friends all evening but at the next house Mr. Coleman was a bit more helpful.  
  
"I didn't see anyone around your place," said Mike Coleman, his forehead creasing thoughtfully and bringing his bushy black brows together. "Except Joe as he was getting home," he amended. "But I did see this red truck drive through the neighborhood a couple of times. Nice and slow like he was looking for something."  
  
"Did you see the driver?" asked Frank looking at him with interest.  
  
"Just a glimpse," Coleman acknowledged. "A big fellow. Not strong looking exactly; just large. With lightly curly brown hair."  
  
Mayhem! Frank's mind screamed in triumph. He does have Joe, the horrible thought followed. Mayhem had already managed to brainwash Joe in the short time they had been together. What would Mayhem do now that there would be no interruptions and he didn't have to pretend to be other than the demented person he was? 


	8. Chapter 8

Joe moaned and turned his head, fighting the oblivion that had once possessed and now threatened to keep him. His eyes flickered open and he lifted his head only to immediately let it fall back as he closed his eyes to block everything from spinning around him.  
  
He lay still with his eyes closed until he no longer felt as if his head were stationary while the rest of his body spun wildly out of control. When the vertigo passes he opened his eyes but lay still long enough to grow accustomed to the semi-darkness around him. He had been chloroformed many times before and was learning the best way to fight the nausea that arrived as he awoke was simply to move slowly. The after-effects wouldn't last long.  
  
He sat up and looked around. He was confined behind iron bars in what he assumed was a basement. There was a small window through the bars on the opposite wall but the grass was so high outside that he could see nothing but green.  
  
A solitary light dimly lit the basement but Joe could easily make out everything. Near the steps sat a desk with a lamp. Several papers and books had been placed haphazardly on the desk so that removing the wrong book first would result in sending everything tumbling to the hard cement floor.  
  
To the left of the desk was what looked like a gurney, complete with leather straps for hands, ankles, chest and legs. The gurney was in a cage barely big enough to hold it. Near the caged gurney was a small table with a locked metal box. To the right of the desk, just past the stairs, was another set of iron bars like the ones imprisoning him. Behind those bars were the two wolves he had seen in Dr. Mayhem's lab his first night at the university. Joe stared into the eyes of the largest one expecting it to growl but it merely bowed its head then sat down on the floor with the second wolf following suit. Joe thought that was very odd behavior, especially for a wild wolf but then, he realized, he didn't know very much about the species.  
  
Joe turned and looked at his own designated section of the basement. Unlike the wolf's prison, his was not covered in straw and no water bowl sat by the cage door. His was completely threadbare save for the cot on which he sat.  
  
Joe stood and walked to the door of his cage. Without any hope he gave it a tug. As expected, it was locked. He grabbed hold of it and pushed as hard as he could but still it would not budge. With a shrug because he would have been surprised only if he could have opened it; he reached down and lifted his left pants leg to get the carved down nail file he kept there only to find it had been removed. He frowned and lifted the leg of his other pants leg. Not there either.  
  
He shoved the cloth back down with a frustrated growl and glared at the door as if the sheer intensity of his stare could melt the metal. The sudden whimpering of the wolves disrupted his concentration. He turned and watched them curiously as they seemed to back away from their prison door toward the far wall. They're scared of me. The random idiotic thought soared through his brain as he turned his gaze toward the stairs where a light had just illuminated the area.  
  
Joe heard humming as someone started down the stairs and by the time Mayhem's right foot came into view Joe still had not recognized the out of harmony tune. "Hello, Joe," Mayhem greeted him. "I'm sorry I interrupted your dinner earlier but I had to seize the opportunity when it arose."  
  
"What do you want with me?" demanded Joe gripping the iron bars so tightly his knuckles turned white.  
  
'To take care of you, of course," Mayhem replied, the calculating look in his eyes belying the fatherly tone his voice gave off.  
  
Mayhem neared Joe's cage and set down the tray he was carrying. He slid off the plate and pushed it beneath the six inch opening at the base of the cage door and took a plastic pint of milk and held it out to Joe.  
  
Joe thought about refusing but as his stomach let out a low growl he decided there would be no good to be had in starving himself. He reached between the bars and took the milk then stooped down and picked up the plate which held steak, a small salad, and a baked potato slathered with butter, sour cream and green onions.  
  
"I don't get it," said Joe tilting his head and looking at Mayhem curiously. "Why? You treat me like a prisoner but you give me food like this?" He held up the plate he turned in Mayhem's direction.  
  
"You are a prisoner for your own safety," Mayhem informed Joe. "Yours and everyone's," he amended. "Granted, the full moon has passed, but it will return next month and in the meantime, with your help, I can continue my research in your attributes."  
  
"What do you mean continue?" asked Joe. "And what does the full moon have to do with anything?" he demanded refusing to admit for a moment to this man that he believed he was anything more than human.  
  
"Oh come, Joseph," Mayhem admonished him with a twinkle in his eyes. "We both know you experienced your first transformation the night you were abducted."  
  
"You're crazy," Joe snarled, his eyes reflecting the fear he had been filled with for days.  
  
"Perhaps," Mayhem acknowledged the accusation to placate his captive. "But that doesn't alter the fact that you are a werewolf."  
  
"They don't exist," Joe stated without conviction.  
  
Mayhem shrugged and left the basement without another word. It was obvious Joe was in a disagreeable mood even if he didn't believe his own words. Soon though, he knew Joe would cease to argue.  
  
Joe sat down and ate his dinner. He was famished. Why am I always so hungry? he wondered, chewing the juicy steak but not with any real relish. He finished his meal, drank the milk and then lay down on the cot. For some reason he was having a difficult time keeping his eyes open.  
  
Mayhem returned to the basement and wasn't at all surprised to find Joe lying down, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He fed the wolves their dinner then entered Joe's cage and chained him to the bed. Next he withdrew a syringe and empty vial from one of his pockets and a packaged pre-soaked cotton-swab. He dabbed Joe's arm with the swab and then inserted the needle. A few seconds later the once empty glass vial was filled with Joe's blood.  
  
"And now," Mayhem said, looking down at the youth that would, in one way or another, answer his questions, "I have a little matter to attend to with your family and then we shall begin." 


	9. Chapter 9

Frank stopped at one more neighbor's house to question them before returning home. Only Mr. Coleman had been of any help. He met Officer Paisley at the foot of his walk and together they hurried into the house. Frank related what Mr. Coleman had told him.  
  
Fenton frowned. "It does sound like Dr. Mayhem was in the area," he said, convinced now that it was indeed the doctor who had taken his son.  
  
"Your neighbor down the street, Mrs. Rutledge saw him too," Paisley inserted. "Apparently, he wasn't sure where you lived and he asked her. He told her Frank and Joe had stayed at his home while working on a mystery last week and had forgotten a few things when they left."  
  
"Lots of prints," said the Forensics officer coming into the room via the dining room. "But they all match one or the other of the Hardys. The kidnapper obviously wore gloves."  
  
"He didn't need to bother," harrumphed Laura. "He didn't bother hiding his identity."  
  
"Actually, the gloves may have nothing to do with disguising himself," Sergeant Bryson said. "The people who we talked to in connection with his disappearance said he always pulled on a pair of gloves before getting into his car."  
  
"Car?" demanded Frank. "He stole a truck."  
  
"This was prior to the theft of the truck," Bryson informed him. "When he was first reported missing we were put on the alert for him and his car, a '97 Lexus."  
  
"Have you located his car?" Fenton asked.  
  
"Negative," was the reply. "But since he stole the truck we believe he may have left it somewhere near campus."  
  
"Do you think he might be somewhere near campus?" Laura asked hopefully.  
  
"We don't know ma'am," Bryson answered truthfully. "There is a state wide APB out on him although once this report is filed it will go into effect across the country and the FBI will be notified."  
  
Laura nodded. She knew cases involving kidnappings all fell under Federal Jurisdiction.  
  
"Try and get some rest," Bryson continued. "We'll be in touch as soon as we have something. And if you find anything..."  
  
"We'll keep you informed," Fenton promised wearily. He had been through this many times on both sides and he could honestly say he preferred to be the investigator rather than the parent at times like these. Fenton walked the men out then returned to the living room where Laura was sitting on the sofa, her eyes dry but distant.  
  
Frank returned from the kitchen where he had taken Joe's unfinished dinner and sat down next to his mother. Taking her hand in his, he looked up at his father. "Now what?"  
  
"We get some rest," Fenton said, holding up a hand to ward off the protest he was positive his eldest son would make. "Apart from heading to Mayhem's old address, which is still under surveillance, there isn't anything we can do tonight."  
  
Frank wanted to argue but knew his father was right. With a look of defeat he kissed his mother lightly on the forehead, said goodnight to his father, and ran upstairs to his room.  
  
***  
  
Morning arrived to find Frank dressed and sitting on his brother's bed perusing one of the werewolf books Joe had checked out of the library. While he didn't believe in the existence of werewolves there was little doubt his brother did and so, he assumed, did Craig prior to his disappearance.  
  
Frank closed the book with a snap and dropped it on the bed. He buried his head in his hands and sighed. I should have listened, he thought as he rubbed the back of his neck with his thumbs. Joe's instincts are almost always right on the mark. When he suspected Mayhem, I should have listened.  
  
Frank dropped his hands and stood up. He returned the book to where he had found it and headed downstairs, his face set in a scowl.  
  
"You didn't get any sleep either?" asked Laura looking at her eldest through bloodshot eyes.  
  
Frank shook his head. "Your father is on the phone with Chief Collig," she informed him. "If you'll get the mail, I'll put on breakfast."  
  
Frank nodded and left the kitchen going through the living room into the foyer where his dad was listening to something that didn't seem to brighten his spirits any and out the front door. Frank walked to the end of the walk where the mailbox stood with its little red flag alert, and opened it.  
  
He removed three envelopes and closed it back, dropping the flag and glanced at the return address. Two credit card bills and a letter from Gertrude, the boys aunt on their father's side. He turned to go back to the house but spotted Elie's red truck parked three houses down.  
  
A trap? Frank wondered starting for it. He paused and frowned. Don't walk right into it, stupid, his brain screamed the warning. He made a sharp right turn and headed for the house.  
  
"Dad, Elie's truck is parked down the street," he said as his father lowered the receiver onto the handset.  
  
"Let's check it out," said Fenton, following Frank outside. The two kept looking around for sign of anyone hiding nearby. Fenton even kept glancing up into the trees although Frank was sure Mayhem couldn't have managed climbing one. He simply wasn't in shape.  
  
"I don't see any sign of Mayhem," Frank said as they reached the truck and each took a side and began circling.  
  
"It may not be Elie's truck and even if it is, it may not be Mayhem who is responsible," Fenton reminded Frank.  
  
"It's Mayhem," Frank declared with certainty. Although he had told his father about nearly being run down on campus and Mayhem's disappearance he hadn't revealed Joe's fears about being a werewolf. Fears no one but Mayhem could be responsible for...except for Anderson and Frank was still convinced he and Mayhem were in cahoots.  
  
Fenton never responded but moved closer to the truck and looked in the bed. Empty. Frank headed for the driver's door. "The keys are in the ignition," he said and grabbed the handle. He pushed his thumb on the handle and heard an ominous click.  
  
"Dad!" Frank shouted, his voice pitched higher than normal.  
  
Fenton hurried to Frank's side. "Check for a bomb," Frank instructed, careful to keep his grip the same as when he heard the click.  
  
Fenton looked beneath the vehicle but could see nothing. Next, he went to the passenger side and peered through the window at the driver's door. A wire attached to the handle led to the space beneath the driver's seat.  
  
"Don't move," Fenton told Frank, his voice quiet but firm. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the police.  
  
"A bomb squad is on the way," Fenton told Frank. "Just don't let..." he broke off as a loud barking began.  
  
Frank turned his head and his eyes widened. It was Sweetheart, their neighbor's overly friendly Saint Bernard, and its eyes were set on Frank as it bounded down the walk toward him! 


	10. Chapter 10

Frank watched as the mammoth dog came closer. Any second now and it would jump on him playfully, the way it always did when she was off her leash and Frank was alone.  
  
Fenton, aware of the dog's disposition toward his sons, hurried around to the other side of the truck and stopped a few feet away from Frank, ready to take the weight of the dog on himself and keep him away from Frank.  
  
"Come here, Sweetheart," Fenton urged the dog to turn her attention away from Frank. "Want to play?" he coaxed, sweat popping out on his forehead.  
  
Sweetheart came closer, her eyes still locked on Frank as drool spilled from the bottom of her mouth. Fenton jumped in front of Sweetheart as it came closer. He locked his arms around the Saint Bernard as he fell backward.  
  
Sweetheart obviously didn't care that she had missed her target for she began bathing Fenton's face in slobber.  
  
"Sweetheart!" shouted Mrs. Feldman. "Oh my," she gasped as she ran up to Fenton and her dog. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, clipping the leash to the monster's collar. "She slipped out the door as I was going in with the mail."  
  
Mrs. Feldman pulled on Sweetheart's leash with all her might as she backed away from Fenton. "That's quite all right," Fenton replied as he got to his feet. "At least she's friendly," he added with a smile.  
  
Sweetheart tugged at her leash wanting to go to Frank but Fenton took hold of her collar to help Mrs. Feldman keep her away. "Would you mind taking her back inside for a little while?" Fenton asked. "There's a problem with this truck and the police are on their way."  
  
"Don't you mean a wrecker?" Mrs. Feldman corrected him with the lift of a brow.  
  
"Not for this problem," denied Fenton without elaborating as he released Sweetheart's collar.  
  
"Oh," she mouthed. "Oh!" she gasped realizing how close Sweetheart had come to making the problem worse. "Of course! I'm so sorry," she apologized again as she turned and headed back to her house pulling Sweetheart along with her.  
  
"That was close," said Frank.  
  
Fenton nodded. "I'll have to ask Laura to make her a pie or something," he said. "We don't want to alienate our neighbors."  
  
Frank shook his head. "The Feldmans are nice," he told his dad. He and Joe had interacted with them more that their dad had. "Mrs. Feldman's father was a police officer in Los Angles," Frank informed him. "I'm sure she isn't surprised by what goes on in this neighborhood."  
  
The roar of approaching sirens drowned Frank's voice out. In no time at all the block was sealed off and the truck was being inspected. A member of the bomb squad expertly maneuvered his hand so that Frank could release the handle and leave the immediate area with his father.  
  
Over an hour later the bomb squad and police, except for Chief Collig who remained behind to talk with the Hardys over coffee, had left the area. Even the truck had been impounded and taken to headquarters.  
  
"Frank, why don't you check out Mayhem's old address?" suggested Fenton. "Maybe you can find something to tell you where he might have gone." Frank nodded his acquiescence. "I'll go to the university and sift through his office and lab." Fenton ended.  
  
"Here," Frank said, pulling out the keys from Dean Ravelson. "This one is to Mayhem's lab," he showed his dad the correct key.   
  
"Thank you," Fenton acknowledged, taking the set of keys.  
  
"And I will call Laura if Forensics comes up with anything conclusive," Collig put in. He scowled, wishing there was more he could do. "I would like to be kept informed on your investigation?" he requested.  
  
"Every twenty-four hours," Fenton promised.  
  
"Be careful," Laura said, grasping Frank's arm as he stood up to leave. "He will probably be after you next."  
  
"No, he won't," Frank denied with conviction.  
  
"Why are you so sure?" Fenton demanded, his brown eyes narrowed on Frank speculatively.  
  
"I..uh..." Frank stuttered, not wanting to betray Joe's confidence.  
  
"Frank, if you know something that's going on then you need to tell us," Fenton pushed; then used his trump card. "Joe's life could depend on it."  
  
"I think Mayhem may have hypnotized or brainwashed Joe, and Craig, into believing something," Frank answered a bit hesitantly.  
  
"What?" Fenton demanded sharply.  
  
"Joe thought..." Frank broke off again and looked warily at Chief Collig.  
  
"Whatever it is, it will not go beyond this room," Collig promised.  
  
"Joe thinks he's a...a werewolf," Frank finally spit it out. "And I'm pretty sure Crag did too," he continued ready to talk once he had gotten over the initial hurtle. "Joe, and Craig from what I've heard, started acting weird after encountering Mayhem. Neither of them trusted him and they both started reading about werewolves before they disappeared."  
  
"Son, just because Joe took an interest in werewolves doesn't mean he thinks he is one," Laura said calmly. "I was really into vampires in my teens but I never believed they actually existed let alone thought I was one!"  
  
"But Joe told me he did," Frank explained. "I even scratched him to prove he wasn't." Collig lifted a brow. "The scratch didn't heal. I think I convinced him Mayhem and Anderson were playing with his mind but..."  
  
"Anderson?" Collig snapped, his brows drawing together.  
  
"Yeah. I think whatever Anderson did to him that night reinforced whatever idea Mayhem planted in his mind," Frank answered, his brown eyes hard.  
  
"You could be right," agreed Fenton. He had never seen Joe as shaken as he had been the morning they had rescued him from the cellar where Anderson and Aliem had held him captive.  
  
"I'll have Anderson's place searched again," Collig declared. "And I will question him myself." He looked at Frank. "Don't worry, I won't say anything about Joe thinking he's a werewolf."  
  
"But if he does believe it, how are we going to convince him he isn't?" Laura demanded in a trembling voice.  
  
"Wait until the next full moon and prove it to him," stated Frank. "If we can stop Mayhem from doing any more damage, that is. I think Joe may be having doubts about it now."  
  
Chief Collig left about five minutes later and Frank headed outside to the van. His cell went off before he had time to start the motor.  
  
"Frank," Callie's voice came through. "Vanessa just stopped by and we were wondering if you and Joe wanted to go to the beach. That is, if he's feeling any better?"  
  
"Joe was kidnapped last night," Frank informed her. "Mayhem chloroformed him and took him before I got home last night."  
  
"Mayhem? Are you sure it was he?" Callie demanded. Hadn't Frank thought Joe was off base about suspecting him before?  
  
"I'm sure," replied Frank. "The truck he stole was parked down the street and a bomb attached to it this morning. He had to of known dad and I would check it out."  
  
"So he's trying to kill you and keep Joe?" Callie asked, perplexed. "That doesn't make any sense."  
  
"It's complicated," Frank admitted but didn't elaborate. "I'm on my way to his old place now to see if I can find anything. I'll call you later."  
  
"No! Wait!" Callie shouted before he could disconnect. "Come by and pick us up," she ordered. "Three sets of eyes are better than one."  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Frank. "Mayhem isn't stable. It could be dangerous."  
  
Callie looked at Vanessa who had a determined look in her eyes as she gave a curt nod. "We're sure," Callie stated, leaning away from Vanessa now that Frank had finished talking about Joe. "We'll be waiting outside."  
  
***  
  
Joe's stomach growled before he opened his eyes. He tried to move but found himself chained to the bed. He yanked on the chains and turned with a snarl as Mayhem unlocked his cage.  
  
"Breakfast," Mayhem said cheerily.  
  
"Don't you have to work?" Joe demanded grumpily.  
  
"You are my work," Mayhem replied smiling down at Joe. "Now, open wide and take a bite," he said, holding a sausage biscuit out to Joe.  
  
"Aren't you afraid I'll bite you?" Joe snapped.  
  
"Now, why would you do that?" Mayhem demanded in amusement. "Without me to take care of you, you would die down here and if you are anything like Fang and Goria," he added glancing over at the two wolves, "you would die of starvation pretty quick. Did you know that they consume twenty pounds of raw meat, each, a day?"  
  
Joe gave a low growl of frustration but took a huge bite of the sausage biscuit. Soon, Joe had devoured the large breakfast Mayhem had brought him and Mayhem set the empty tray on the floor.  
  
"What did you do with Craig?" asked Joe wondering what his own fate was going to be.  
  
"Ah, yes, tragic," replied Mayhem with a frown. "Jonathan got lose and came after me. I I had to kill him but I wasn't too upset because Jonathan had already gotten close enough to Craig to turn him. Just a scratch, like you, but it was enough."  
  
He looked at Joe speculatively. "I suppose Craig's death can be blamed on legend," he continued. "Allegedly, only a silver bullet can kill a werewolf. And while that does work, the legend fails to tell that the silver bullet method only holds true when the man has already morphed into the wolf. As a man, he can still die. Craig managed to get hold of a scalpel in the basement of my house and cut himself," Mayhem explained. "He bled to death before he could transform."  
  
"None of this makes any sense," said Joe. "The moon wasn't full the night I got scratched, if I even did," he added. "So how did it heal so fast? Frank scratched me yesterday and it hasn't healed."  
  
Mayhem's smile returned. "Ah, but I have in my possession something than can effect the change even when the moon is not full. It was still on campus when Craig was hurt and I didn't get it back to my house in enough time to prevent his demise."  
  
"What?" Joe wanted to know.  
  
"It's a rock from the moon," Mayhem answered. "A gift from NASA several years ago. So you see, now I don't have to worry about losing you. I will just measure your vital signs until you are almost too weak to survive then allow the moon rock to work its magic.  
  
"I need to find out how long it takes for you to heal while you are under the moon's influence and then I want to find out how lifeless you have to be before the moon loses some of its healing powers," he ended.  
  
"But if you do that, you might actually kill me," Joe tried to reason with him. "Then you wouldn't have any werewolf."  
  
"Ah, but I have samples of you blood," Mayhem told him. "Should you die, and at some point I am sure you will but hopefully that won't be for several months, then I will simply find someone and inject your blood into him or her."  
  
"But what if it isn't the blood that turns them?" argued Joe as Mayhem removed a knife from a sheath around his leg. "I'm the one who bled when I got scratched. Not Craig or Jonathan, or whichever one it was."  
  
"Hmm," Mayhem commented, pausing thoughtfully. "You aren't as dumb as I thought you were. An interesting theory and one I shall have to check out. But don't worry, I shan't let you get too far-gone just yet. There are many experiments I wish to perform. This is but one," he ended and brought the knife down with force into Joe's abdomen. 


	11. Chapter 11

Frank came to a stop in Mayhem's drive and he, Callie, and Vanessa alit from the van. "Okay, we're going to go over this place from top to bottom," Frank instructed the girls. "The police have already been through the place but hopefully we will find something they missed."  
  
Frank used the key he still had to unlock the door and the three went inside. "Look for anything that might have an address or phone number on it," instructed Frank. "And check every nook and cranny you can find although the police will have already checked under the drawers and in the cushions."  
  
He led the way upstairs and there, they spilt up. Frank checked out Mayhem's bedroom while Callie and Vanessa tackled the other room and the bathroom. He went through every drawer; divested the bed of its linen; emptied the waste can and checked underneath it. He even pulled the dresser away from the wall and checked the back of the mirror and beneath it. He got down on the floor and looked under the desk and chair. Half an hour later he left the room disgusted.  
  
"There's nothing up here," Callie snorted as the three met in the hallway. "The only stuff I found was yours and Joe's."  
  
"We still have downstairs and the basement to search," Frank stated not ready to admit defeat so soon. "Let's get to it."  
  
The downstairs was a bit more crowded and was taking longer to go through and the more time it took the more discouraged Frank grew. He slammed the door of the hutch closed with a loud bang. He flinched as it snapped afraid he had pushed too hard and the glass door would shatter but it remained in one piece.  
  
"Frank!" Vanessa's frantic voice came from the living room. "Frank! I think I've found something!"  
  
Frank raced into the living room and almost collided with Callie who had also come to see what Vanessa had discovered.  
  
Vanessa smiled at Frank as she held up a canceled check between her fingers. Frank took the check from her and looked at it. "It was stuck beneath one of the sofa legs," she told him, her gray eyes bright. She knew Joe would have been proud of her.  
  
Frank looked at the return address. It was the same as the house they were in and the check was made out to General Realty for six hundred dollars. It wasn't anything to get excited about, he thought until he took in the bottom left of the check where it told what the check was for. There was an address for a house in Southport.  
  
Frank grinned then gave Vanessa hug. "Fantastic!" he said. "This could be where he took Joe."  
  
"Then we're finished here?" asked Callie.  
  
"No," Frank said. "This could be it but then again..."  
  
"It might not be," finished Callie. "Okay, let's get back to work then," she suggested.  
  
Forty minutes later with no new leads the three entered the basement to conclude their search. "I guess a lab is one use for a basement," Callie commented as she looked around.  
  
"But what was the cage for?" asked Vanessa, her brow furrowing in curiosity.  
  
"His wolves?" suggested Frank, although it was quite possible he had kept Craig a prisoner behind the bars.  
  
They began looking around but could find nothing of interest. Frank pushed the file cabinet drawer shut and turned around. "We might as well go," he said.  
  
"What's that?" Callie asked, ignoring Frank's words and looking at his feet.  
  
"What's what?" he asked, his gaze following hers but seeing nothing.  
  
"Something fell from behind the file cabinet," she told him.  
  
Frank turned around. Sure enough, the corner of a piece of paper could be seen lodged against the wall just behind his feet. Frank picked it up. It was part of a file. It was numbered page nine so it must have slipped from a stack unnoticed. Frank read the handwritten data on it, his curiosity turning to anger mingled with horror. "Let's go," he ordered in a clipped tone, lowering the sheet to his side but clutching it tight.  
  
"What does it say?" demanded Callie.  
  
"Does it mention Joe?" asked Vanessa, her face just as determined as Callie's as she glared at Frank.  
  
"Um, kind of," he admitted. "Let's go," he said again, trying to avoid the accusing stares of his and Joe's girlfriends.  
  
"Hand it over," ordered Callie.  
  
"You don't need to see it," Frank said, trying to step around them.  
  
"What does it say?" Vanessa demanded, crossing her arms and standing directly in front of him.  
  
Callie leaned over and snatched the paper from his hand. "Ow!" he yelled, lifting his finger to his mouth.  
  
"Sorry," Callie apologized, not looking at him.  
  
"Callie, please?" begged Frank, not wanting Vanessa to see the paper.  
  
"What does it say?" demanded Vanessa.  
  
"It just proves Mayhem is mad," said Frank reaching for the paper but Callie backed away from him as Vanessa moved to block Frank once again.  
  
"It mentions the guy Frank and Joe were looking for," Callie began. "Craig. It says:  
  
I accidentally let my ring touch Craig's skin. When I moved my hand the  
  
imprint of my ring had been burned into his flesh."  
  
Callie finished reading the paragraph then gasped as she saw the notation in the lower right margin.  
  
"What?" Vanessa snarled. She was more than a little angry about being kept in the dark and she had yet to hear how Joe was mentioned on the sheet.  
  
Callie looked at Frank who bit his bottom lip before giving a curt nod of assent. "There's a...a notation," Callie informed Vanessa, her face pale.. "It says... 'Must run test on Joe to see if he will also burn and scar.'"  
  
Vanessa lifted her hand to the silver crucifix Joe had given her. "Silver burned Craig?" she asked, not quite believing it.  
  
"According to Mayhem," affirmed Callie. "But that's not possible."  
  
"Last night, Joe was fine until we began slow dancing," Vanessa said looking into Frank's eyes. "Is it possible, maybe, he got burned by my necklace?"  
  
"How could he?" Callie demanded logically. "Silver doesn't burn. And even if someone did develop an allergic reaction it wouldn't cause them to burn and scar from such a brief contact."  
  
"Frank?" asked Vanessa. She could tell he had something on his mind. "What exactly is going on?"  
  
Frank hesitated. Should he tell them? Would they think Joe was as crazy as Mayhem?  
  
"Frank?" demanded Vanessa, her hands clasping her hips as she gave Frank the same look he got from his mother when she knew he was keeping something from her.  
  
"I think Mayhem somehow managed to hypnotize or brainwash Joe, Craig, and Jonathan," he said finally.  
  
"Jonathan?" Callie asked with the lift of a brow.  
  
"He was someone else who Mayhem experimented on," Frank explained.  
  
"Okay, for the sake of argument, we'll say they were hypnotized," Callie said. "But that doesn't explain why silver would burn them."  
  
"It does if they were made to believe they were werewolves," Frank replied.  
  
Callie's eyes widened in shock and then she burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she gasped a moment later. "That was a good one but I am surprised you can joke at a time like this."  
  
"I'm not joking," Frank replied stoically. Is this how Joe felt when I laughed at him? No, he decided. He would have felt worse.  
  
"I've seen shows on television where hypnotized people actually bled after it was suggested they were pricked with a needle," Vanessa said. "So Joe could have gotten hurt from my necklace. No wonder he went all cold and wanted to leave last night."  
  
Frank could tell she was having a hard time deciding whether to be more concerned about Joe or angry at Mayhem for doing this to him, but Frank knew one thing for sure as he watched the silent battle within her: Vanessa loved his brother very much and would do anything she could for him.  
  
"Wait a minute," Callie demanded, her laughter gone. "Why would Mayhem make them believe they were wolves?"  
  
"So he could see how much control the sub-conscious really has?" postulated Frank.  
  
"But didn't you say his degrees were in veterinary science and something to do with the environment?" Callie argued. "I don't see a connection."  
  
"And genetics," added Frank, remembering Mayhem possessed three doctorates. "And I don't see a connection either," he admitted with a scowl. "But the only other alternative would be if Joe really were a werewolf." 


	12. Chapter 12

"Aaeiee!" Joe screamed as the knife plunged into him. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out again as Mayhem pulled the knife back out.  
  
Mayhem checked his watch then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed the knife carefully in the center before folding the edges over it. "Don't worry pet," he said looking down at Joe's pain filled face. "I'm not leaving you."  
  
Joe watched Mayhem pick up the tray from the floor then exit the cage and go to the other side of the basement. He put the tray on the desk then picked up a clipboard, a pen, and the metal box Joe had noticed earlier. Putting the clipboard under the arm with the box, Mayhem grasped the chair by the desk and rolled it across the floor and into the cell with Joe.  
  
"Why.." Joe gasped as a wave of pain rocked him. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "Why do you have to know how fast I can heal?"  
  
"Because I want to be like you," Mayhem told him as he began writing something down. "But unlike you, I intend to be able to control my transformation. I will be in full control at all times and in order to do that, I must learn everything I can," he ended.  
  
He really is insane! Joe thought as he listened to him talk about wanting to be a werewolf in a tone that one would use to discuss the weather.  
  
Joe's breathing became more labored and he closed his eyes. He was beginning to feel incredibly tired. Mayhem got up and came closer to Joe. He checked the pulse in Joe's neck then made a notation on the clipboard. Setting the clipboard down on his chair he exited the cell once more and returned with a digital blood pressure monitor. He attached it to Joe's arm then once again checked the pulse in Joe's neck.  
  
"Weaker," Mayhem noted and jotted down the exact numbers from the monitor. He sat back down and watched as Joe's health declined. He made notes on Joe's appearance, being sure to include the fact that his skin had gone from normal to a faded beige beneath his tan and then continued to change to a pale yellow. He wondered fleetingly what color Joe would turn if he reached the point of no return. The healthy tan Joe possessed altered the colors a bit. Jonathan had been pale to begin with and instead of a pale yellow his skin had gone almost alabaster when he had been seriously wounded.  
  
Five minutes passed and Joe continued to bleed. Ten minutes and Mayhem again checked Joe's blood pressure on his arm and the pulse at his neck. Five more minutes and the blood had all but quit flowing. The monitor on Joe's arm registered error and his pulse was almost non-existent.  
  
Mayhem checked his watch then snatched his clipboard and jotted down the time and pulse with one hand while his other lifted the lid on the metal box. He stood above Joe and waited. The change had begun almost at once Joe's first night staying with him. Why hadn't it started immediately this time? Had he waited too long after all?  
  
***  
  
Frank dropped the girls off on his way home. They had wanted to accompany him to Southport but he felt he could get more information if he were alone. Reluctantly, the girls had agreed.  
  
At home, Laura told Frank that Fenton had called and was still at the university but would be home by seven. "Good," Frank replied. He wanted to show his dad the paper Callie had found but there was no way he was going to let his mother see it.  
  
"Did you find anything?" Laura inquired, looking at him hopefully.  
  
"A check to a real estate agency in Southport," Frank informed her. "The memo said it was rent on a local," he added. "I'm going there now to get the address for the local it was talking about."  
  
"After you have had lunch," Laura put in before Frank could turn to leave. "You're going to need some energy to rescue your brother."  
  
"Mom, I don't want to waste anymore time," Frank argued.  
  
"I can have you a sub ready in five minutes," she promised him. "You can eat it on your way."  
  
"Okay," he caved in. He was a little hungry.  
  
An hour and ten minutes later, Frank pulled to a stop in front of a little brick building near the edge of Southport. The sign in the yard advertised Paul Langley as the head agent and beneath his name appeared four more names.  
  
Frank got out of the van and hurried inside. "Good afternoon," Frank was greeted by a man in is late twenties. "Welcome to General Realty," he added getting up from his desk and coming to shake Frank's hand.  
  
"Hello," Frank returned the greeting. "Is Mr. Langley in?" he asked as his hand was relinquished.  
  
"He's out with a client," the man informed Frank, his smile not reaching the calculating brown eyes. "Perhaps I could help you?" he suggested. "My name is Aaron Blevins and I'm sure I can help you find what you are looking for."  
  
"Perhaps," agreed Frank. "But actually all I am looking for is a little information. Boris Mayhem has been paying you rent and I need to find out the address of the property he is renting."  
  
"I'm sorry," Blevins said, straightening up to his full six foot three height and staring down his nose at Frank. "We cannot divulge any information about our clients, if he even is one."  
  
"I understand," said Frank. "But this is very important. He kidnapped my brother and you are the only lead we have at the moment."  
  
"Do you honestly expect me to buy such a cockamamie story?" Blevins demanded huffily. "I think you had better leave."  
  
"It's true," Frank insisted. "He..."  
  
"If it were true then the police would be the ones requesting the information. Not you," pointed out Blevins.  
  
Frank opened his mouth to object but closed it immediately. He could see Blevins' point of view. It did seem a bit farfetched that a teenager would be there asking for information that the police should be requesting. Frank left the building and got back into the van and headed to the local police station. Once there, he was ushered into Chief Pennington's office.  
  
"Frank, it's good to see you again," greeted Southport's chief of police.  
  
"You too," returned Frank smiling at the jovial man in front of him. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."  
  
"Ah," Chief Pennington said, his green eyes dimming a bit. "This has something to do with Joe. The report of his kidnapping was on my desk when I came in this morning."  
  
"I have a lead," said Frank. "But the realtor thought I was a troublemaker and ordered me to leave," he added, then explained about the canceled check.  
  
When Frank had finished speaking Chief Pennington picked up the phone. Forty minutes later the two of them were at General Realty with a warrant. They left ten minutes later with the address.  
  
"I'll have Peterson and Machenelli meet us at Dannings," the chief told Frank naming a store near the house's location. "Follow me."  
  
Frank climbed into the van and followed Pennington to Dannings. It took only ten more minutes until they were on their way. Frank's hands were tense on the steering wheel as he followed the police off the main road. Would Joe be there? Would they be too late? 


	13. Chapter 13

Boris Mayhem's green eyes gleamed eagerly as the knife wound began to repair itself and fur sprouted all over Joe's body.  
  
Joe moaned and turned his head back and forth as his nose and mouth began to elongate. His moans became screams as his feet and hands seemingly ripped back and claws began to appear. The screams became growls and his eyes began to grow and his ears faded from sight as pointed gray and black ears began to form at the top of his head.  
  
Mayhem slammed the metal box shut before Joe's transformation had completed itself. Slowly, Joe's normal features returned and the fur vanished. Lying before Mayhem was a healthy teenage boy in mild shock with a four-inch scar along his abdomen.  
  
Mayhem took his clipboard and sat down. Almost fifteen minutes later, he stood up and took the box holding the moon rock and exited the cell. When he returned he brought with him a sheet that he used to cover up the naked youth.  
  
Joe, having had a few minutes to come to his senses looked up at Mayhem. "You quit before I transformed fully," he said. "Why?"  
  
"Interesting," Mayhem noted. "You obviously retain your sense of recognition up to a certain point. I will have to find out at what point in your transformation that changes." He reached for the clipboard in the chair and wrote his observation down before looking back at Joe.  
  
"In answer to your question you are chained in a manner not suitable to your wolf form," Mayhem answered. "I don't wish to cause you any unnecessary pain or damage."  
  
"You don't want to cause me any pain!" Joe erupted, his blue eyes wide. "Just what did you think stabbing me would cause? A tickle?!"  
  
"I said unnecessary," Mayhem reminded Joe. "I can't gauge your healing if you aren't wounded," he explained in a voice that made Joe feel like a child. The cell phone at Mayhem's waist went off and he left the cell and locked it before hurrying up the basement stairs before answering.  
  
Joe kicked at the sheet until it was just below his waist then leaned up and looked at his belly. The only evidence he had been stabbed and nearly died was a scar that would either fade over the next week or vanish completely if Mayhem forced another transformation on him.  
  
Joe lay back on the bed and blinked his eyes. Would this be his life from now on? Intense pain and near death followed by a brief respite through a supernatural cure to evaluate his injury only to have to repeat the experience? Maybe he would be lucky like Craig and actually die. At least then there would be no more fearing what he had become.   
  
The basement door banged open and Mayhem raced back down the steps and to Joe's cell. Without a word he unlocked it and approached Joe holding a hypodermic.   
  
"What's that?" demanded Joe, frightened. Wasn't he even going to be given a little while to recuperate? Mayhem looked angry and annoyed. Who had been on the phone, Joe wondered? Had they been found? Was he going to be rescued? Mayhem never answered Joe's question. He put a moist cotton ball on Joe's arm and then applied the needle. Mayhem was already working on releasing Joe when his eyes closed.  
  
Mayhem lifted Joe letting the sheet fall to the floor. He put Joe in a fireman's carry and hauled him up the steps, through the kitchen ,and out the back door to a beat-up blue Chevy van.  
  
He laid Joe in the van then returned to the house. He took a box and filled it with his research and placed the metal box with the moon rock on top then lugged it to the van. Returning to the house again, he leashed Fang and Goria and loaded them into the back with Joe. They sniffed of him once then lay down beside him. Mayhem shut the back of the van and started back inside to collect more research but froze midway. He looked down the hill and spotted two police cars and a van coming toward them.  
  
Abandoning the rest of his research, Mayhem returned to the van and climbed behind the wheel. He started up then pulled out of the drive and drove a quarter of a mile before pulling off the road behind some overgrown bushes. He killed the motor then waited silently while the queue moved steadily closer.  
  
He saw Frank's face as he drove by only feet away. It was pale, but hard, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Mayhem heaved a relieved sigh. For some reason Mayhem was most grateful he was not meeting Joe's brother face to face ever again. Even with all he had faced in his life, the thought of a meeting with Frank after what he had done to Joe was an extremely terrifying one.  
  
Mayhem gave an involuntary shiver as he started the van and pulled back onto the road. Keeping his speed at the limit, he left the side road and pulled back onto the main drag, feeling good because he had predicted this could happen and had already arranged for another place to stay and conduct his experiments in peace. 


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Frank had put the van into park and gotten out, Chief Pennington was already at the front door of the house. One of the other two officers had gone around to the back and a third had gone to the side in case the occupant tried to slip away.  
  
One minute after Frank joined Chief Pennington at the front door it opened to reveal the officer who had gone around to the rear. "The back door was open, Sir," reported Sergeant Conroy.  
  
"Let's search the place," Pennington ordered. "Remember, we are looking for Joe Hardy or Boris Mayhem or anything that could prove they were here."  
  
The house had obviously been lived in and there was ample evidence of Mayhem's habitation but nothing to place Joe there until the basement was discovered.  
  
Sergeant Conroy was the first to reach the bottom of the steps; his eyes automatically drawn to the contrast of red against white behind the bars of a cage. "Sir," he said, turning to the chief and partially obstructing the view. "Perhaps Frank should wait upstairs," he suggested.  
  
The chief took one look at Frank's determined expression then gave a slight nod to Conroy to indicate he should step aside. The sergeant set his lips together in a thin, disapproving line and stepped aside. The others stepped down from the stairs and stared in horror at the blood soaked bed.  
  
"No," whispered Frank who began to tremble.  
  
Pennington placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Easy, Son," he said softly. "It may not be Joe's." Frank closed his eyes, swallowed, and nodded. Pennington could be right he thought. It could be Craig's blood.   
  
"Don't touch anything," Pennington ordered. "It's time to call in Forensics."  
  
Frank returned to the van and sat down to wait for the Forensics team to arrive. He sat there for a few minutes fighting to bring his emotions under control. When he had arrived home to find Joe missing the previous night he had been angry and filled with guilt for not trusting Joe's instincts about Dr. Mayhem. Now, all he felt was terror and helplessness.  
  
Sure, the blood could have belonged to Craig but his gut instinct was screaming at him that it was Joe's blood all over the cot in the basement. He was certain that Craig was already dead even though his body hadn't been found. He couldn't see any other reason for Mayhem needing Joe. Or did he need Joe? There was so much blood.  
  
Frank shivered and took a deep breath then pulled out his cell phone and called home. "Mom," he greeted her when she answered.  
  
"Frank, did you find him?" Laura demanded anxiously.  
  
"No," he admitted. "I am at the place where they were," he continued. "But it's going to be awhile. I probably won't be home until late."  
  
"All right," acknowledged Laura fighting to control the tears that threatened. No matter how many times one of her children had been kidnapped, each time felt like the first and this time she heard something in Frank's voice she hadn't heard before and it terrified her. "Be..be careful," she pleaded.  
  
"I will," he promised.  
  
"I love you," she told him before he could hang up.  
  
"I love you too," he returned then said goodbye and hung up as the chief exited the house and headed his way.  
  
"I'm going back to the rental agency," Pennington informed Frank. "I thought you might want to come with me while the Forensics team do their thing."  
  
"Please," agreed Frank at once, grateful for something to do.  
  
When they arrived at the realty agency they found Paul Langley, the chief realtor and owner of General Realty, had returned. "Chief Pennington, what can I do for you?" Langley inquired as the chief and Frank entered the office.  
  
"We're here about the house you rent to Boris Mayhem," Chief Pennington said. "The one at 4349 Blayne Drive."  
  
"Is there some problem?" Langley inquired, caught completely unaware.  
  
"Didn't Mr. Blevins tell you that we had to have a search warrant to obtain the address earlier?" asked Frank looking over at Blevins who ceased his movements at the copier at Frank's question.  
  
"No," Langley answered. "But then, I've only arrived and haven't had a chance to actually talk with him."  
  
"Dr. Mayhem is a suspect in a kidnapping," Chief Pennington told the agent. "We've just been to the house and he was there but is no longer. We would like to see all the information you have on Mayhem," he requested.  
  
"Of course," Langley agreed at once. "What was the address again?" he inquired, sitting down at his computer.  
  
"4349 Blayne Drive," the chief repeated.  
  
Langley typed it in. "Aaron," he said looking over at Blevins. "This is yours," he stated. "You should be able to tell the police everything they need to know."  
  
"He knows everything about this residence?" asked Frank his eyes narrowing on Blevins.  
  
"Of course," Langley replied proudly. "It's one of the reasons we're the best realty company in the state. We know each address, person, and everything about the property that we handle."  
  
"So your agent wouldn't have to spend several minutes searching through a file for an address?" Pennington inquired, his gaze focusing on Blevins who was beginning to look like a cornered rat.  
  
"That is correct," Langley acknowledged.  
  
"Mr. Langley, do you have a way of tracking phone calls made from your office?" asked Frank with a sick feeling in his stomach.  
  
"Yes, we do," Langley affirmed. "Each phone number is logged so we can keep track of our expenses and the time spent on each client. Why?"  
  
Chief Pennington moved to Blevins' desk with his gun drawn. "Mr. Blevins, I hereby place you under arrest for suspicion to being an accessory to kidnapping and for obstructing an investigation."  
  
"What?" Langley gasped as Pennington began reading Blevins his rights.  
  
"We will need your log," Frank told Langley. "And we still need everything your agency possesses on the property on Blayne Drive."  
  
"Of...of course," Langley agreed. "But that will have to be photocopied."  
  
"That will be fine," Pennington said. "Thank you." He turned to Frank. "Wait for the information while I run this guy in. I'll be back soon."  
  
When Pennington returned an hour later he informed Frank that Blevins had confessed to warning Mayhem someone was looking for him.  
  
"Figures," replied Frank with a scowl. "Mayhem's been paying rent on that place for ten years for his sister who only uses it for a couple of months out of the year."  
  
"Did you get a permanent address for the sister?" inquired Pennington as he and Frank got into the squad car.  
  
"There wasn't one," answered Frank. "Since Mayhem was the person paying the bills they only kept his address on file and the last address was for his place in Bayport."  
  
The two returned to the house in silence. "Sir, Forensics have finished and returned to the station," Officer Conroy reported. "I asked some of the neighbors about this place. They all confirmed that a man fitting Boris Mayhem's description was seen driving a blue Chevy van in the area."  
  
"Good work, Conroy," Pennington congratulated him. "Have you searched the house yet?"  
  
"Negative, Sir," was the response. "I was just getting ready to."  
  
"I'll help," Pennington said and led the way inside.  
  
Frank went straight for the basement. He was positive Joe had been kept there and he knew if there were a lead that it would be down there. Frank froze in surprise when he reached the last step. The place was empty and clean.  
  
"Forensics took everything," Conroy told Frank from behind. Frank turned to look at him. "I'm sure the chief will let you know the results as soon as he does."  
  
"You're right," agreed Frank. "And Forensics will do a thorough job and I'm not really allowed to help with the search anyway," he admitted ruefully.  
  
Frank returned upstairs and waited for the police to finish. Fortunately, it didn't take long for it seemed, apart from the basement, Mayhem had only occupied the kitchen and one bedroom.  
  
With a sigh of relief, Frank climbed into the van and followed the police back to headquarters. He hated waiting and yet that was all he had been doing since his arrival in Southport.  
  
At the station, Chief Pennington left Frank in his office while he went to the Forensics lab to check the status on the investigation. When he returned he was carrying a stack of papers almost four inches thick.  
  
"Well?" demanded Frank eagerly.  
  
"It's too soon," Pennington told Frank who seemed to crumple before his eyes. "However," he added causing Frank to perk up with interest. "These are photocopies of the papers taken from the basement. I do want these back," he stressed. "But you may take them home and go over them. I will call you just as soon as I get the results from Forensics," he promised.  
  
"Thanks," said Frank standing up and taking the stack of papers. "For everything," he added as he left the station.  
  
Frank headed back to Bayport at maximum speed. He didn't have to wait for the report to tell him what he already knew: that had been Joe's blood and if he weren't dead already, he soon would be. 


	15. Chapter 15

Fenton greeted Frank in the foyer when he arrived home. "What are those?" he asked as he led the way into the living room where Laura sat.  
  
"Copies of the papers Mayhem left behind," Frank informed him. "But Chief Pennington wants them back."  
  
"We need them photocopied," said Fenton.  
  
"I'll take care of that," offered Laura, grateful to take an active part in finding her son. "There's a place two blocks from here with a copier that's open all night."  
  
Frank waited until his mother had left before telling his dad about the blood in the basement and what else he had learned since leaving home earlier. "Did you find anything at the university?" asked Frank.  
  
"Only that the man seems obsessed with werewolves," answered Fenton. "Since his arrival on campus he has checked out every book in the university library on the subject and even had the university bookstore order seven books on the subject for him. I did, however, get a copy of his personnel file and manage to obtain every previous address he had," Fenton added with a slightly preoccupied look.  
  
"What?" asked Frank, watching his father's face closely.  
  
"There's a gap in his history," Fenton informed Frank. "Several years ago he left the university he was teaching at with no forwarding address. His next address was in Scotland almost eight months later."  
  
"Dad, you said Mayhem was obsessed with werewolves," Frank began a bit hesitantly.  
  
"Your brother is not a werewolf," Fenton stated firmly, knowing what Frank was thinking and finding it a bit disconcerting that Frank could entertain such a notion. "Although, it is entirely possible Mayhem hypnotized him and made him believe he was one. There wasn't enough time to have brainwashed him."  
  
"I should have listened when Joe said he didn't trust Mayhem," Frank berated himself. "I should never have left him alone with that creep."  
  
"If anyone is to blame, it's me," Fenton told him, laying a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder. "Joe told me he didn't trust him too," he reminded Frank. "And I still gave my permission for you two to stay with him without more than a basic background search."  
  
"What are going to do?" asked Frank, not feeling any better.  
  
"Call up your friends," Fenton instructed. "Have each of them phone more friends and so on. That will start a chain reaction that should reach pretty far," he explained. "Give a description of Mayhem and the van and offer a hundred-dollar reward to anyone who can get us a location."  
  
"Right," Frank agreed, liking the idea. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I am going to alert the authorities in each city where Mayhem has lived," replied Fenton. "He may try to return to familiar territory."  
  
***  
  
Joe opened his eyes and saw with despair that he was still a prisoner. He lifted his arms above his head and grabbed the metal cage he was in and shook it; but it didn't give. He reached to his side and tried shaking it there, but it would not budge either. He spotted the entrance just above his head and tried one last time.  
  
Joe dropped his arms in defeat and looked around the room that held the cage he was confined it. The walls were made of wood so he was not in another basement. A cabin, perhaps? There was a couch against the far wall that looked like it could open up and make a bed and beside the sofa was a wooden end table with a kerosene lamp sitting on it.  
  
Joe heard a noise but couldn't see above the built-in bar to tell what was going on. Unlike before, his current cell wasn't big enough for him to stand up in. The cage that imprisoned him now was only four inches above his head as he sat up and crossed his legs, waiting for Mayhem to show himself.  
  
Mayhem came into view before long. "Where are we?" demanded Joe, his blue eyes fixed on the man with cold hatred.  
  
"At a friend's cabin," Mayhem answered, a frown on his face as he heard Joe's stomach growling. "I suppose I had better feed you before we continue with our next experiment," he added as if talking to himself. "Why couldn't Jerry have had the place stocked?" he mumbled as he returned the way he had come.  
  
A few minutes later, he returned with a syringe. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone," he told Joe, poking his hands through the cage and catching Joe's arm. He put a moist cotton ball on it and then injected him with the needle. "Unless you are asleep," he added as Joe's eyes began to droop. Mayhem stood up and tossed the used syringe into the wastebasket on his way out the front door.  
  
***  
  
Frank made his last phone call then went into the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner. He opened the fridge and smiled when he saw his mother had saved him a plate from the dinner she had obviously bought.  
  
Frank nibbled a piece of the crust to figure out which chain she had purchased it from then popped it in the microwave. When the mike dinged, he removed the plate and poured himself a glass of milk. He had just finished his meal and returned to the living room when he heard a car door slam out front. He hurried to the door and opened it, cringing as he saw the face of the person coming to the door. 


	16. Chapter 16

"Dad!" croaked Frank as loudly as he could. He swallowed. "Dad!" he shouted again to gain his father's attention.  
  
Fenton came flying down the steps but came to an abrupt halt as Laura stepped inside the house, her blue eyes steely and her lips drawn so thin they were all but invisible. She set the papers she had down on the table and picked up the one on top. With a shaking hand she held it out to her husband. "Do you have any idea what that madman is doing to my son?" she demanded angrily, her voice barely an octave above a whisper.  
  
"I do," she continued. "I looked at some of these as I was copying them. I want my son found. NOW!" she ordered, her eyes going from the steely blue to a fiery violet and her lips curling into a snarl.  
  
Fenton looked down at the sheet of paper Laura had handed him and began reading, his face growing more taunt as he progressed.  
  
"He killed this Ambrose person," said Laura. "He wrote it down like it meant nothing!"  
  
Fenton did not speak but he agreed with her as he looked at the paper:  
  
Ambrose was uncontrollable tonight. I had to kill him but not all is lost for there is another to take his place. I will begin research on my new test subject after classes are finished for the day. I must find a way to remove him from campus without being spotted. No one would understand the importance of my research.  
  
"That bastard has no conscious," declared Laura.  
  
"You're right," acknowledged Fenton, his own face as pale as his wife's.   
  
"Find him," ordered Laura again.  
  
"We're doing everything we can," Fenton replied.  
  
"It's not enough," Laura retorted, her eyes beginning to leak. She grabbed the papers and thrust them at Fenton. "Look at them!" she ordered with a breaking voice. She released the papers as Fenton's hands closed around them then ran upstairs to her room and slammed the door.  
  
"I've never seen her so upset," stated Frank.  
  
Fenton shook his head and walked into the living room. He set the papers on the coffee table. Frank sat down on the sofa beside his father and reached for some of the papers, stopping when his cell went off.  
  
"Frank, Mayhem was spotted," Biff's excited voice came over the line.  
  
"Where?" demanded Frank gripping the phone tighter.  
  
"East Bridge," was the reply. "I'll be over in a few to pick you up," he continued. "Mom and Dad have all ready given me permission."  
  
"Great!" enthused Frank and disconnected. He told his dad about the call and Fenton pulled out his wallet and removed two fifties. He handed them to Frank to give the finder once Mayhem was located.  
  
The two read over the papers until Biff's van was heard pulling into the driveway. "I'll call when we find him," promised Frank as he set the paper down he had been looking at and exited the room. He was glad to get away from them. The horrors he had put Jonathan Ambrose through was almost too much for him to handle, especially since he knew Joe would be going through acts equally as obscene.  
  
Fenton kept reading. All the papers concerned a young man named Jonathan Ambrose. Fenton's forehead wrinkled as he continued through the sheaf of papers. They read like a scientific journal but the content could only be labeled fiction. Had Mayhem written a novel and then gone mad and thought it was true? Was he going to try and do these horrendous things to Joe? Had he already started? Fenton broke into a cold sweat as he remembered Frank telling him about the blood.  
  
Fenton read more. He noticed that there were notations on the side that gave a web address or book reference. For a work of fiction he really went all the way, thought Fenton. With all the footnotes and asides one could almost be convinced of the existence of werewolves.   
  
After a particularly gruesome piece, Fenton put the paper down and went into the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face and then reached for a hand towel. As he dried off an idea came to him. He put the towel down and returned to the living room and picked up the phone. Dialing a number, he waited impatiently for someone to answer.  
  
"Mr. Cohen," said Fenton when a man answered. "This is Fenton Hardy. I'm sorry to call so late but it is rather important. Could I please speak with Phil?"  
  
"Of course," agreed Mr. Cohen at once then hit a button on the phone that transferred the call to the basement that Phil had converted into an electronic lab and where Phil was, Mr. Cohen knew, still engrossed in a new invention.  
  
"Hello?" answered Phil after the first ring.  
  
"Phil, this is Frank's father," Fenton introduced himself.  
  
"Yes, Sir," replied Phil with a grin. He had met Mr. Hardy several hundred times and talked to him on the phone enough to easily recognize his voice and he found it slightly amusing that Mr. Hardy still felt it necessary to introduce himself as his best friend's father.  
  
"I wonder if you could do me a favor?" asked Fenton. "To help find Joe," he added.  
  
"Anything," Phil assured him and he meant it. Although it was Frank who was his best friend, he liked Joe very much as well.  
  
"Is three any way to track Boris Mayhem online?" inquired Fenton. "I can give you some URL's for sites he has visited if that would help."  
  
"I could probably get his address or at least his phone number from the last time he was online," Phil informed him.  
  
"That would be great," said Fenton. "Hang on and I'll get the list."  
  
When Phil hung up he looked at the list of URL's Mr. Hardy had given him. He gave a sigh and turned his monitor on then connected. He would go to the sites but first he had an idea of his own to try.  
  
Frank filled Biff in on the investigation as Biff drove to East Bridge. As they hit the city limits, Biff pulled over and called his friend on his cell. When he hung up he looked over at Frank. "Mayhem bought some groceries then drove out to a log cabin off Crystal Lake Road. Rem said he would meet us at the gas station at the intersection of 87 and 431."  
  
Biff drove to the designated gas station and Frank filled the tank while Biff went inside to pay the attendant. When he came back out a nineteen-year-old boy with dreadnoughts, dressed in faded, ripped jeans and a tattered jean jacket over a grungy looking tee shirt, was talking to Frank. As he neared, he saw Frank pull out his wallet and hand the young man some money.  
  
"Rem?" Biff asked incredulously as the boy turned to leave.  
  
"Biff!" Rem greeted his friend with a big smile. "Long time, no see."  
  
"No kidding," agreed Biff, amazed at the appearance of his pal. The once geeky looking lean young man with straight, greasy black hair and wire-framed lenses was almost unrecognizable. "What gives?" he demanded. "Your hair can't have gotten that long in six months."  
  
Rem burst out laughing. "It's a wig," he admitted. "I'm in a play at the community center and we had a dress rehearsal. I got a call from Stan on my cell as I was leaving the hall and saw your target at the grocery store when I stopped off for some eats."  
  
"Are we going to follow you?" asked Biff.  
  
"No," Rem answered, glancing at Frank. "I told your friend where he was at and he said he knew the cabin."  
  
"Okay, then," said Biff. "Thanks for helping out."  
  
"No problem," answered Rem. "Thank you," he added, holding up the two fifties and taking off. He didn't know why finding the van and the driver was so important but he had an idea if he knew he would have given the money back. But he had plans for the money so he asked no questions and hurried away.  
  
"Shouldn't you have made sure it was Mayhem before you gave him the money?" asked Biff curiously.  
  
"He told me what he looked like, what he was wearing and," he stressed the word, "what he was buying. Namely; sixty pounds of raw meat. It has to be Mayhem."  
  
"And the cabin?" asked Biff.  
  
"Two cabins away from the one dad rented Christmas before last for an old-fashioned holiday," Frank answered, remembering the deep snow outside and the warm fire and bright tree inside with just Joe, him and their parents for four wonderful days.  
  
"Going to call the police?" asked Biff.  
  
"Not until we make sure he's still there," replied Frank. "Come on," he said, opening the passenger door. "Let's get going." 


	17. Chapter 17

Mayhem pulled to a stop in back of the cabin and got out. He carried in the groceries and his other purchases that he had made at the mall before going to the grocery store then unpacked everything; positive Joe hadn't awoken.  
  
He fed Fang and Goria then sat down at the computer and logged on, grateful yet again that his friend kept the utilities and phone connected on the off chance he or one of his close friends would want to use the cabin on the spur of the moment.  
  
He went to his favorite website. It was allegedly the ultimate compendium of lycanthropy. It also had a register of self-professed werewolves. He had begun checking out the people registered but as of yet had found no true werewolf. He was, however, positive there had to be others somewhere and he intended to search until he could find at least one other. One who, hopefully, knew more about their gift than he had been able to learn.  
  
After a little over an hour, Mayhem logged off and set about preparing dinner. He made himself a sandwich then put Joe on two steaks. One thing Mayhem had discovered, after a transformation and up to forty-eight hours before a natural transformation, the werewolf's appetite increased.  
  
Joe had not undergone a complete transformation earlier but it had been enough to alter his senses. From his experimentation with Jonathan Ambrose, Mayhem had discovered the sense of smell, taste, sight and hearing remained heightened for two days after a transformation.  
  
Mayhem wondered how the human mind would handle being constantly alert to the least change in atmosphere? He hoped it wouldn't drive Joe mad but if it did, he would find a way to contain him.  
  
He had almost managed to train Ambrose and could even let him loose in the same room with him in wolf form but after that Deyman boy had wandered in and gotten bitten, Ambrose's demeanor changed. His next transformation showed he had reverted to the wild wolf he had once been. Mayhem had no choice but to use the derringer he kept on himself at all times against Ambrose. One silver bullet between the eyes and Ambrose had fallen, changed back to human form, and died.  
  
Only a silver bullet to the heart, scoffed Mayhem as he put the steaks on a plate. Just another myth. He was quite certain any silver bullet or even a silver dagger positioned anywhere in the body would have the same effect. If only he could find another werewolf or two he could research that theory. In good time, he thought, picking up the plate and carrying it into the other room. He set it down near Joe's cage then returned for a cup of milk and a straw. He was going to have to find a better cage. This one was, he supposed, not only difficult to work through but not quite strong enough for a full moon transformation.  
  
The aroma from the steaks wafted through Joe's nostrils and he stirred, his stomach growling loudly. This time, it took Joe only seconds to become fully alert and sit up.  
  
"I'm afraid I'll have to feed you," Mayhem told Joe. "The plate won't go through the links of your cage."  
  
"You could let me out," pointed out Joe. "Or open the cage door and hand it to me."  
  
"And have you get away?" Mayhem retorted with amusement. "I think not." He cut a piece of steak and held it out to Joe. "I bought ground beef for tomorrow," he said. "I could go for meat loaf myself but if you prefer, I can fix yours as hamburgers."  
  
"Meat loaf," Joe decided then wrapped his lips around the steak and pulled it from the fork.  
  
"What happened to the first werewolf you had?" Joe asked. "The one who infected Craig?"  
  
"Infected?" Mayhem asked a bit thoughtfully. "Yes, that would be a good term except there is no cure so it isn't really a disease. But, to answer your question, Craig surprised Jonathan and Jonathan snapped at him more out of fear than anything else. You see, I did have Jonathan tamed. During the full moon I could even put a leash on him and take him for walks. But once he tasted human blood I believe he reverted back to the beast nature intended him to be because the next time he transformed his eyes held the same killer instinct they had when I had first captured him.  
  
"I found out too late, of course. Once he had changed, he came after me and wouldn't obey any of the commands I had taught him. I had no choice but to use the derringer I carry on him. I shot him between the eyes hoping to slow him down enough to drug him or contain him but, like the myth of a werewolf being immortal even in human form, the one about a silver bullet killing only if it goes through the heart is also false."  
  
"So you intend to discern the myth from the facts?" asked Joe, realizing he had almost finished his meal as Mayhem talked.  
  
"That is one of my goals," acknowledged Mayhem.  
  
"And your other goals?" asked Joe.  
  
"I want to be immortal," Mayhem stated, his green eyes taking on a far away look. "I want to be strong and powerful. I want my senses heightened to the point that there is nothing in my immediate environment that I can not identify and, if the situation allows, control."  
  
"Then why didn't you just let Jonathan attack you?" Joe wanted to know.  
  
"Because Jonathan, nor Craig, could control themselves. Neither can you but, hopefully, by the time I have finished my research, I will be able to control the transformation, stopping it just before my intelligence wavers and animal instinct takes over. I will be able to go anywhere and do anything without fear because I will know exactly how badly I can get hurt and come through."  
  
"But you could still die," pointed out Joe. "A plane crash; a head on collision, even getting shot. All it would take is a few seconds in complete human form."  
  
"I thought of that," Mayhem said, setting the now empty plate down on the floor. "A fragment of moon rock carried on me to prevent that or better yet, put the fragment into my body. I doubt it would be enough to cause a transformation but it could prevent dying, maybe even getting hurt." He smiled at Joe as he stood up. "That theory will provide us with another set of experiments to try at a later date."   
  
Mayhem walked over to the end table and picked up a tape measure. "What are you going to do now?" asked Joe watching him warily.  
  
"I want to take your measurements," Mayhem said. Joe relaxed for a brief second until he added, "As a wolf." 


	18. Chapter 18

Biff killed the motor a mile from the cabin and coasted to a stop about a hundred feet away from where the blue van was parked. He and Frank exited Biff's van and silently made their way to the cabin. They went to the front window and peered inside. Joe was sitting in a cage eating something while Mayhem talked until, finally, Mayhem stood up.  
  
"Go around back," instructed Frank. "See if there's another way inside."  
  
Biff nodded and took off. Frank looked back to the scene before him and saw Joe's eyes widen in terror. When Joe visibly cringed and shrank against the back of the cage as Mayhem neared him, Frank knew he could wait no longer. He rushed the front door as Joe let out a horrific scream.  
  
Frank kicked at the front door with one strong maneuver and it banged open, splintering the frame. Joe let out an agonized scream as Frank ran inside and grabbed Mayhem's shoulder. Frank spun Mayhem around, causing him to drop the metal box he held, and let fly with a stiff uppercut to his left jaw. Mayhem stumbled back and fell, knocking the metal box sideways and sending the contents tumbling under the sofa.  
  
Joe let out another scream that turned into a growl as Biff came crashing into the room only to freeze. Shocked, he watched as Joe's nose faded into his face and small furry ears popped out of his head. Frank caught sight of Joe and forgot about Mayhem who scrambled to his feet and hurried out the door to the cacophony of sirens.  
  
As fur began to grow all over Joe's body and his shoulders grew three times their normal size, Frank snapped out of his stupor and saw the box Mayhem had dropped. He fell to his knees as Joe's mouth grew and his teeth elongated.  
  
Where is it? thought Frank, frantically listening to the whimpering that Joe was making. Obviously, the transformation was causing him extreme pain. Frank looked around for the item the box had held. He looked under the sofa. Was that it, he wondered, reaching for the solitary item hiding there?  
  
He pulled it out as a loud howl sounded from behind him. Frank turned to see the biggest wolf he had ever seen locked in the cage where his brother had been moments before. The wolf lowered its head and pushed at the door of the cage. A few of the links uncurled under the stress but it held.  
  
Frank dropped the rock into the metal box and shut the lid. At once the wolf's growl turned into a whimper and it sank to its haunches.  
  
Frank thrust the box at Biff. "Hold this," he shouted into Biff's ear, hoping to snap him out of his shock.  
  
The two continued to watch as the wolf became Joe once again. Frank's heart wept for his brother as he watched Joe curl into the same fetal position they had found him in when Aliem had kidnapped him.  
  
Biff took off his shirt, careful not to jar the box open, and handed it to Frank who was already kneeling by the cage trying to pick the lock.  
  
Biff watched as Frank got the door open and pulled his brother out and into his arms; wrapping the shirt around his waist and saying meaningless words to try and ease the shock Joe was obviously in.  
  
"The police are here," said Biff softly.  
  
Frank looked up at Biff then at the box. "Put that in the van," he ordered, not wanting anyone to have possession of something that could do this to his brother.  
  
Biff nodded and left the cabin. Almost to the van, Biff felt a blow to his upper back and fell to the ground, letting the box slide away from him. Before he could recover, Mayhem slammed Biff once more with the branch he was holding then dropped it, grabbed the box, and took off running.  
  
Stunned, Biff got to his knees then stood slowly, swaying. "Hold it right there!" shouted a male voice as two police officers stepped into view.  
  
"Ma..Mayhem is getting away," Biff managed to spit out as a thin stream of blood made a crazy path down his face.  
  
One of the officers barked an order at his partner and another officer came and wrapped an arm around Biff's waist and helped him back to the cabin where, upon seeing Joe, he radioed in for an ambulance for both Biff and Joe.  
  
The next afternoon Fenton, Laura and Frank were in Joe's hospital room waiting for him to awaken. He had been treated for shock then given something to help him sleep upon his arrival at the hospital. Biff's injury had resulted in a slight concussion and his wound had been cleaned before being released into his parent's custody who had come to pick him up at the hospital. Biff had promised Frank he wouldn't say anything before he left which eased Frank's mind a little.  
  
Frank sat quietly by Joe's bedside, staring at his face which showed no sign of the trauma he had just undergone. When his eyes flickered open, Frank leapt to his feet and took his brother's hand. "Easy, Baby Brother," Frank told him in a gentle voice. "You're safe now."  
  
Joe gave him a wan smile as Fenton and Laura moved to his other side. "Hi, Baby," Laura said, smoothing his hair away from his forehead.  
  
"Hey," returned Joe with a rasp.  
  
"Thirsty?" asked Fenton. At Joe's nod, he poured Joe a cup of water and handed it to him.  
  
"Thanks," replied Joe after drinking its contents and returning the empty cup to his dad. "Did you get Dr. Mayhem?" he asked, afraid they had and now everyone knew the awful truth but equally afraid they hadn't and Mayhem was still free to come after him.  
  
"No," Fenton answered, scowling. "But there's a manhunt in bloom and his picture is going to be kept posted at every government agency until he has been captured."  
  
Joe nodded. He didn't know whether to be relieved or not. "How did you find me?"  
  
"Frank found you first," Fenton said. "A friend of Biff's spotted Mayhem at a grocery store. Phil located Mayhem's Internet connection via a website and I sent the local authorities to the location. Unfortunately, they arrived too late to capture that..that..."  
  
Laura laid a comforting arm on her husband's. She knew how he felt but she also knew how much he disliked profanity and right now she could feel the string of curse words that threatened to leave his lips.  
  
"Why don't you two go on home and get some rest?" suggested Frank wanting to talk to Joe alone and thinking this would be a good time to urge his parent's to depart.  
  
"But Joe just woke up," objected Laura.  
  
"I'm still a little tired," said Joe, wanting to talk to Frank privately as well. "Go on home. I'll be fine."  
  
"All right," Laura gave in with a frown. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "The doctor here called Dr. Bates and he wants to run a few tests on you tomorrow when you are released and can return to Bayport," she informed Joe. "Hopefully, he'll be able to find out what he and those other two cretins did to you to send you into shock."  
  
"Oh, good," responded Joe with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster. He smiled at his mother, wishing he could tell her not to worry about him. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Goodnight, Son," said Fenton, messing Joe's hair up after Laura had fixed it. "Sleep well." He looked over at Frank. "Call us if Joe, or you, need anything and I'll be right over," he promised.  
  
"I will," promised Frank as his parents left the room and closed the door.  
  
"He killed Jonathan and Craig," Joe said after they had left.  
  
"I'm sorry, Baby Brother," apologized Frank. "I should have believed you."  
  
Joe shrugged. "It is unbelievable," he said.  
  
"But I don't understand why, when I scratched you, it didn't heal?" Frank said in confusion.  
  
Joe told Frank about how Craig died and the experiment Mayhem had did on him. "He actually watched you bleed to death?" rasped Frank, his brown eyes darkening to coal.  
  
Joe didn't answer but, remembering for the first time why he had left the pizzeria early, pulled his dressing gown down and looked at his chest. "What's wrong?" demanded Frank as Joe touched the skin where the scarred tissue had once been.  
  
Joe told him about getting burned by Vanessa's necklace. "So some of the myths are true about werewolves and some aren't," stated Frank with a frown as he helped Joe settle back onto the bed and fix his gown.  
  
"And Mayhem wants to separate the fact from the fiction using me as a guinea pig," Joe stated bitterly.  
  
"Like hey he will," vowed Frank with a snarl. "That madman isn't going to get the chance to get at you again."  
  
Joe never said anything but he knew that Mayhem would always be a threat as long as he was alive. He looked up into Frank's concerned brown eyes. "What happens now?" asked Joe. "What am I going to do? I'm...I'm not normal. I'm dangerous."  
  
"Only once a month," Frank said. "Or when you get near a moon rock." He smiled and shook his head at Joe. "We'll think of something," he promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you or let you hurt anyone," he added, knowing that was what scared Joe the most.  
  
End story two in the Werewolf of Bayport series! 


End file.
